Amarantos
by Glory-To-Our-August-King
Summary: In the wake of his wife's failed contact experiment with Unit-01, Gendo Ikari sets about the task of discarding his old life. For Shinji Ikari, this means being sent away to live in Germany on the Langley Estate, where he grows up in the company of a spitfire redhead.
1. Act I - Chapter 1: Ue o Muite Arukō

**Amarantos**

 **(Greek: Unfading)**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Ue o Muite** **Arukō**

* * *

What Gendo Ikari remembered most about his mother was her hospital room.

The soapy vanilla scent of the sheets and how very, very cold his legs had been, dangling from the plastic chair nearest her bed. It was the kind one might find in an elementary school, cracked at the backrest and with rust spattered stands. Feet kicking side to side, he would examine the holes in his sneakers while his most prized, and really only possession – a clunky cassette player – sat in his lap.

He'd bought it at a festival for his seventh birthday, when his mother had handed him a five-hundred yen coin and told him to get whatever he wanted. They'd been playing songs from Kyu Sakamoto, making him think of her standing by the radio in the kitchen. How she would shake her head and smile whenever his music came on.

"I'm going to be famous one day, Geny, just you wait. A hot American singer like that Sakamoto fella'."

At home on her nightstand, she used to keep pictures of Judy Garland and Rosemary Clooney, and had once owned a wall-spanning collection of swing era albums. She'd gathered them all throughout her younger years, scrounging together every bit of excess yen, but had to sell them once he was born. He used to think it'd be nice to buy them all back for her one day. She loved to sing and had even learned some English to try and echo those American jazz artists just right.

Gendo never had the chance to hear her cadence, at least not at an age he could remember, due to the illness that so often confined her to a bed. He liked to imagine she sounded like the people on his mixtapes, of which he had a handful, tossed in with the player he'd bought from the vendor. They kept him company whenever she was away or in the hospital. When he closed his eyes and started to drift off in their moldy, water stained home, he imagined it was her lulling him to sleep.

They had not been making him very sleepy at the time, and he'd been doing his best to tune out his step-father arguing with the doctors out in the hall. That was when he had felt her fingers in his hair, gently calling his attention.

There wasn't any hair left on her head and she was very thin, so much so he could make out every bony contour under her skin. Her eyelids were droopy, but she managed to smile a little for him. Or it looked like she was smiling. He couldn't tell for sure because of the mask over her face.

She beckoned him with shaking arms and he crawled in bed with her, resting his head against her breast and listening to her heart. A frail hand tugged the silicone cover from her chin, dragging it down with every little ounce of strength she could muster. Holding him, she started to sing. Her tortured throat made the words scratchy and at times hard to decipher, but it was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.

" _I look up while I walk... so the tears won't fall... remembering those spring days, but tonight I have you... I look up while I walk, counting the stars with teary eyes... remembering those summer days... but tonight I have you..._ "

Each word came so slow, shivering from her lips one by one while something wet trickled into his hair. He was not sure when her voice had stopped, or when the whirring of the life support had turned into a deafening whine. She was still warm, even after her heart stopped beating, and he fought the nurses when they tried to pry him free. Up until his stepfather grabbed him and smacked him, eyes furious and cheeks overrun with tears.

Gendo could not be certain why this vast graveyard, gritty and barren, reminded him of somewhere so sterile and frigid. At the very least he was able to bring flowers this time, while his mother and her very small marker had received none. It had taken all of their savings just to give her a proper funeral. He couldn't be sure if his mother had even cared much for flowers.

In fact, Yui had never told him what her favorite blossoms were either. If she had ever entertained a preference. So he settled on white chrysanthemums at the suggestion of the priest, who'd seen fit to offer his advice where it was not asked for. Gendo did not have the strength to hold him under much contempt for it.

Before him was a black slab, decently taller than his mother's tiny marker. But there was no corpse to cremate, no ashes to sift through for bones, starting from the feet and slowly wandering to the head as they were sorted into a small urn. Nor would there be a plaque for her at her family's shrine, which had been destroyed with the entirety of Tokyo. This place was merely a mass grave without corpses, a hollow testament that there was once life here.

No, for Yui, there was just a name and a date. He supposed that would suffice. Gendo kneeled to set the flowers down at its base, plastic crinkling as it left his fingers. After a moment of debate, he decided against praying, resting his hands on his thighs instead. He used to pray, long ago for the handful of times he was able to visit his mother. At least there had been a jar full of ashes back then, something tangible and real to hear his thoughts and prayers.

Worship had ceased at home shortly after she passed. They hadn't been able to afford some of the more grand and elaborate shrines he had seen in other homes. Rather, it was a re-purposed cupboard put on a stool by the front door. One of the panels had always hung slightly ajar from a crooked hinge, allowing one to glimpse the small, weathered bodhisattva statuette inside and mother's prayer beads hanging from its neck.

When they came home from the funeral, he covered it in white paper like grandfather had taught him. To ward away any evil spirits. His step-father smashed it to pieces a week later during another one of his drunken fits.

In his and Yui's home now, there was no shrine to Buddha or God or Ahura Mazda – or any other deity imagined by man. Their religion was one of fields and particles, collections of neural data and cells that congealed to form people and reality as they knew it.

For such a very long time, before the gateway to metaphysics had been opened to him, Gendo had decided that life was just an accidental collision of fields and energies. That, when those two powers ceased to hold together, there was nothing. No afterlife, no rebirth, no great journey to some ethereal plane. It was a sad kind of existence when he dwelled on it, but Yui had never seen it that way. His wife had found the light in everything.

She had, ever so subtly, converted him.

Rock and mineral scraped at his back, where Shinji stood, quiet, but looking to him in askance. So steady and thoughtful for a four year old. He'd completely forgotten the boy was even there. Gendo turned away when he realized there was more than a question in his son's eyes – there was fear. And why shouldn't he be afraid?

Yui had envisioned a future, for herself – and for him. She'd seen something in him that others had given up searching for, and offered him a place in that warm world of hers when no one else cared to offer him anything. In time, he had begun to see it too, in the way she smiled at her round belly and asked him what they would name this new life.

There were hands holding firm to the fabric of his pants as they balled into fists. His hands, but not his hands. They did not feel as though they belonged to him, and he eased forward, hunched in front of her grave as his fingers moved to sink into the earth.

 _Help me, Yui.  
_  
"Please... help me."

* * *

The boy was throwing another fit. Over what, Gendo couldn't fathom. Something in the meal? He told the boy to sit and be silent.

Little Shinji threw his dinner plate to the floor and screamed, "I hate you!"

Gendo's hands met the table as he stood, another threat on the tip of his tongue.

"You killed her! You killed her!"

There was a resounding _slap_ and Shinji was half to the floor, cheek splotched red. Gendo's blood went cold in an instant and try as he might in the years to come, he would never forget that face. That look of utter betrayal. He would have rather faced his wife's empty entry plug again than be looked at like that.

Reality tumbled over the boy, drawing out tearful wails. "I want my mommy!" Shinji half sobbed and half shrieked, running to his room and slamming the door shut.

Gendo's shoulders slumped and for a while he just stared down the hall, listening to the rhythmic _tick tick_ of the wall-mounted clock and the muffled chirping of the cicada bugs outside. The mid-summer heat pooled over him and he looked to the open patio doors with a frown. It was always mid-summer... and it always _would_ be. For as long as they were allowed to endure – which did not seem to be very long at all.

His eyes fell to the white shards and remnants of food scattered across their maroon rug. He bent and started to collect the pieces bit by bit. The nerves in his fingers danced and flesh parted as sharp glass carved into his hand. Gendo cursed, clutching his wrist as if that would do something to ease the searing burn. Red flowed from his fingers and palm, thick globules clinging to his knuckles before falling to soak into the carpet.

All at once the apartment seemed darker, heavier. It weighed down on him like a rolling tidal wave, swallowing every ounce of energy he had left. Eventually, Gendo found the will to stand at the sink. Water splashed into the steel basin and mingled with drops of blood, until steam began to rise and he stuck his hand under the scalding water. His skin screamed and he grit his teeth as white-hot pain dove into the pink flesh. He kept it there under the hissing water until he couldn't feel anymore.

He turned the faucet off, flexing his fingers, buzzing with sensory overload. He found the medical kit in the storage closet off of the kitchen and wrapped it tight in gauze. As he went about cleaning up the dining room mess, carefully this time, he noticed the answering machine near the door winking a tiny red light.

Another call from the professor? That would be the most logical answer. The staff, the Committee – being Director of a global research group meant he had little time to himself, especially with that meddlesome old man leaning over his shoulder.

Deciding to ignore the waiting messages yet again out of spite, Gendo started washing the dishes. His watch read 12:01.

The entire day had been spent home, quietly sorting through the "office". Discarding what was not needed, boxing other items and possessions. There were still shelves lined with books, from philosophical to scientific, to just plain fiction. The living room was modest, but well furnished – though at the moment felt bigger than a theater without an audience. In the other room, their bedroom, it was a maze of organized chaos. Everything was probably a bit dusty now. He'd been sleeping on the couch for the past few days.

Shinji had been an utter nuisance the entire time. Gendo supposed that was just the nature of children, and the reason he had so vehemently protested having one. Even with the private tutor, the boy was... difficult. It was a burden he'd never wanted – had never believed he was capable of bearing. It was at Yui's insistence that they'd had a child.

She had believed.

Gendo looked around the living room again to keep his thoughts from drifting, to keep his heart from stinging. Everything reminded him of her. The scent of her citrus body wash permeated every pillow, and the heavy lavender aroma of her perfume soaked itself in the walls and washed through his lungs.

A sparse few photos hung upon simple white plaster: their wedding day – and the night they had brought Shinji home. Upon the mantle piece over the fireplace sat her violin; red wood lighted with warm streaks of gold and cherry, sleek and polished. Though he noticed, with some annoyance, that one of the strings had snapped.

It was so quiet.

Even the slow, oscillating pattern of the ceiling fan couldn't keep it at bay anymore, turning into yet more empty noise. It broke into the house, pouring over every inch and worming its way into his ears. His hands began to tremble and his heart beat faster and faster as his chest swelled – plugging his throat. Gendo clasped his hands over his ears as it crept over him in shuddering tides. He bent over, eyes squeezed shut while his shoulders shook with soundless sobs.

The ringing silence persisted, but as with his quiet grief, eventually subsided. The world seemed to come back to sound and feeling, though his chest felt no less numb.

Gendo slid his hands down his face, a half-hearted attempt to clear his watery vision and streaked cheeks. He sniffed and folded his hands, blinking several times as his eyes drifted to the coffee table at his knees, sliding lethargically over the manila folders spread across it. Then they snapped back, a name catching his eye.

 _Keel.  
_  
He thought he could be strong enough.

Shinji didn't deserve to be growing up around so much hate and death. But Gendo had helped bring him into this world. Because of him, his mother had been taken away. The accusation snapped a cord in his heart, twisting his veins with virulent malice and disgust. What was he supposed to do – _how_ was he supposed to raise this child alone?

That night, Gendo Ikari did not sleep, haunted by the hatred in the eyes of the boy down the hall.

* * *

He hated their living room.

There was a new coffee stain on the white couch and it wasn't even from the child, who'd been taught early on to be wary of making such messes. The long low-end table was a glorified dumping ground for anything and everything, miscellaneous piles of half packed moving boxes stacked high on either side of the entertainment system. At some point, he recalled as if grasping for a dream, that this had been a comforting place.

It had endured the One Year War and various marital squabbles. Gendo had been sitting in the armchair there three years ago with Shinji in his lap, watching the television as a news anchor informed Japan that Tokyo had just been attacked. He'd felt the tremors and thought it little more than an earthquake. The pillar of smoke had risen over the hills shortly after and his stomach might as well have been voided.

The anchor broke the news uneasily. Japan had suffered its third nuclear bombing.

He'd learned they were not the only ones and had spent several days glued to the television, ushered out to attend to his worldly responsibilities only at Yui's quiet insistence. Each night he learned of more sprawling cities that had been turned into ashen planes, of the desert capitals in the middle east - now silent glass craters. Not even the United States had made it through unscathed.

Now, Shinji was off with his tutor as usual, while Gendo again neglected his duties and the chores that needed doing around the house. When the boy returned, they would eat in silence and Gendo would dismiss him to his room, as was also becoming ritual. Night by night he came to resent this burden more and more.

There was a notion in him, stirring as the fledgling tides of the sea. To reach out and speak. To do any of the things that had once been so easy and mundane. Nothing ever came of these efforts, where he forgot to shave and snubbed the opportunity to shower. Some days he could not even be bothered to eat.

When his body had had enough, when his legs carried him into their bedroom – that awful room that smelled like her, that disappointed him every time he did not find her in bed – he returned to the task at hand with mindless purpose. The task of discarding his old life.

While rifling through their things, he came across the old tape player he'd thought lost ages ago. This particular player was one of the newer models, bought for him by Yui for a birthday he'd stopped caring about decades ago.

Thankfully, the mixtapes he had never found the heart to get rid of were still compatible with the more compact portable players. For the first time in years he listened to the jaunty tunes of Sakamoto, understanding the words with a new ear. How his mother had changed the lyrics as a final parting gift.

It did not lift his heart to hear it, yet the old words brought comfort, somehow. He spent his nights here now, in this blasted living room, clutching his SDAT the way a smoker clung reverently to his cigarette pack. But tonight, he was reading. The research files that had landed in a heap on the coffee table were open in a mess of precise medical jargon. Incoherent gibberish to anyone else, but ordered chaos to him.

It was the Eva.

Always the Eva.

It was the key to everything.

* * *

Three months later, the new year rolled over.

It was February and Japan should have been shaking off the residuals of winter. Instead, the morning air was raw and humid in the pine laden valley of Hakone. The mists hung lower over the bare skeleton of a city and the cries of the cranes reached far across the serene countryside, not yet disturbed by the blaring of construction.

Gendo waited at the train station, holding Shinji's tiny hand in his. Fuyutsuki stood on the other side of the boy.

"Don't you think a father is what he needs right now?" the elder asked, bordering contempt.

"No," Gendo said, staring off into the fog. "He'll be better off."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the unconvinced look Fuyutsuki made, but no further protest left his lips. Instead, he said, "Just answer me one thing: why Germany?"

"He must be able to pilot if the need should arise."

The man flinched as if stabbed. "Ikari..."

"The Second is no older. We'll gather all of the necessary data while everything is being prepared."

The man's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "It's just an all too convenient excuse, isn't it?"

Gendo cast his gaze down at Shinji, who was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A narrow rail-car soon squealed into its berth, announcements droning with it. "Grab your things," he said. Little Shinji did as he was told, struggling as he hefted the oversized duffel bag.

"Where we going?" he asked.

"You are going away for a while."

Shinji flinched, eyes wide. "But – I don't wanna'!"

The train doors parted, revealing a man in a long-sleeved white button shirt and black khakis, hair shaved close to his head. The boy's tutor.

"Inside," Gendo said in his quietly firm voice, a hand pushing against Shinji's back.

His bag dropped as his fists went to his eyes. "But why?" he whimpered, trying to wipe away gathering tears.

Something twisted in him and a gnawing pit formed in Gendo's stomach, his hands trembling. He stuffed them in his pockets, eyes lingering on Shinji only a moment longer. One that stretched on forever, spanning nearly a hundred breaths. In that instance, he felt doubt, fear – anger. A torrent of emotion swept over him, though failed to move his impassive features.

That night he had struck his son threw him away from the station and its hissing air compressors, standing him in their house again to watch as Shinji ran from him screaming, _"I hate you!"  
_  
Gendo stiffened, hands clenching as he clung to resolution before hesitation could snare him again. There was nothing the boy would gain from him. Not as a father.

That was something he could never be.

"You mustn't run away, Shinji," he said and fished the old SDAT player from his jacket pocket, taking a knee and putting it in little Shinji's grasp. He stood straight, sliding his hands in his pockets again to keep them from shaking as he turned and began walking down the platform, Fuyutsuki at his side.

"Dad!" Shinji cried, small hands fighting tears, "don't leave me dad! Please, I'm sorry – I'm sorry!"

Gendo kept his head up as he walked.

* * *

 **Neon  
Genesis  
Evangelion:  
Act I: Elysium**

* * *

Shinji held his knees to his chest, staring down at his white shoes. There was a black streak he thought he should wipe away, unable to muster the will to move unless prompted. The train ride had been really long and he had been asleep most of the plane trip – wherever it was he was going with his Teacher. It seemed like he was being taken to the other side of the world.

"We're here."

Shinji looked up and found everything was brighter, sky-touching trees making the sun wink as they passed by. He had to twist in his seat belt, wishing he was grown-up sized.

In a moment the glowing countryside whisked his discomfort away.

Beyond the road stretched fields of pale green and autumn gold, rolling up to a house – Shinji's brow furrowed in thought – three stories tall! It was like no house he'd ever seen, made up of rough white stone. With its squat, heavy shapes, it appeared to have been squished between the hands of a giant at some point, squeezing its tiny windows together, the edges of which were rimmed with red bricks. Spires poked up from its steep rain-gray roof, where the fingers of green vines clawed up the walls to touch them.

"Where are we?" he asked, face pressed to the glass.

"I will tell you when you sit properly," Teacher said. Shinji's shoulders sagged, but he did as he was told and the man nodded. "This is the Langley estate. The Colonel is very generously providing us with housing here."

Shinji's face scrunched. "Why?"

"It is what your father wishes," Teacher said and Shinji sank in his seat a little, staring at the car door as weariness pulled at his body. He reached into the pockets of his shorts, one hand finding the music player father had given him.

The vehicle squealed to a stop.

"Come," Teacher said.

Waiting for them was a tall man with an ugly face; all square and more than a little wrinkly. There must have been something wrong with him, because he didn't look like anyone else Shinji had ever met. Teacher approached and bowed. The man did the same and then they shook hands, speaking... something. Those weren't words! That was just gibberish!

The man then motioned to Shinji and Teacher nodded, face stretching into a smile as he indulged the boy with a slight bow. Shinji looked to Teacher, who motioned impatiently for him to do the same.

The man chuckled as he did. "It's nice to meet you, _junger_ Shinji."

 _Junger_? Shinji wondered, straightening up a little, awaiting explanation as he looked from one to the other. The two continued their conversation, forgetting about him entirely. The taller man made a few gestures, pointing somewhere beyond the big house.

"Come along, Shinji," Teacher said, pulling the boy from his gazing. As they walked by, Shinji noticed a little girl in a black dress frowning at him from the open doorway. He stopped to stare at her – that red hair and big blue eyes.

The girl sniffed and ran out of sight.

 _Red_. He thought, struck dumb on the spot. _Red like fire_. Shinji turned to Teacher, only to find he had been left behind. His short legs struggled to catch up. "Who– who was that girl?"

"Never you mind," he said, leading the way through a winding path of archways wrapped with white flowered vines. The looming castle was steadily consumed by the trees and bushes of purple and yellow, which spilled strange stinging scents into his nose. He sniffed and itched, which only made it itch all the more.

There were many pathways and he was thankful that at least Teacher knew where they were going. At the same time, Shinji couldn't help but wonder what lay beyond. Smaller trees reached over the smelly bushes, cooling lily-pad laden ponds with their shade. Slowly the world shifted in shape and color as the trees grew taller and their trunks grew fatter.

Shinji glanced back, glad the stone castle was still in sight. But even that became distant as they reached a tiny, albeit more familiar, house like the ones where he lived. It was then that he noticed the sky had begun to darken, dyeing everything shades of yellow and orange as the sun shrank away. The tallest spires of the castle poked over the tall trees, but he couldn't see much beyond the alien bushes and hulking trunks. Keys jangled and something clicked, Teacher calling him inside. Shinji hesitated at the threshold, staring down at that small line between concrete and wood. His feet and knees felt tight, as if someone had glued his shoes to the ground. Eyes traveling up again, he was met with darkness and s shadow he recognized as Teacher.

"Shinji," Teacher said and a light snapped on, casting his tall caretaker in black, but bathing all else in an orange glow.

"Why... can't I..." he started, but couldn't get the words past the brick in his throat.

"This is your home now."

Shinji swallowed, but the lump didn't pass and he stepped inside. The walls were far too tall, or maybe the rooms were just too empty. His house had lots of stuff. His room had lots of stuff.

Teacher turned to the right, sliding open a door to what must have been his room, a musty smell creeping forth. He set down Shinji's duffel bag and walked past him down the hall. "Go to bed now. Your studies will begin first thing in the morning." then he disappeared to the other end of the house.

Shinji wandered into his room, grimacing at the lumpy looking futon. There was a small black table in the left corner and an empty closet to his right.

Shinji turned back to the hallway and the closed door far beyond it. He reached for the panel, struggling as it got stuck along the floor. With a final push, he managed to slam it closed before falling on his rump. Something thumped along the carpet, the black SDAT player lying behind him. He twisted and picked the thing up, the wires curling between his fingers.

The plastic frame creaked as he squeezed it, skin hotter than a sun – and he cast it across the room.

He regretted it immediately, scrambling to snatch the player up as it clacked against the wall and bounced over the floor. He turned it upside down and over, making sure there were no cracks or loose wires.

It was still together. It was still whole.

Shinji pressed it to his chest, unable to keep his lips from shaking or his shoulders from trembling. With one heaving gasp, the tears started tumbling down his cheeks and he cried in an empty room with nothing but his father's SDAT for comfort.

* * *

A light _taptaptap_ pulled Shinji from his dreams, casting him bleary-eyed into the world. He sat up on the floor, one hand rubbing his eyes while the other still clutched the SDAT player tight. The tapping came again and this time his door slid open to reveal Teacher, clad in a white button long-sleeved shirt and black pants.

"Change your clothes and then we will begin your lessons," he said, sliding the door shut.

Shinji blinked, searching for his duffel bag. Finding fresh new clothes, he changed and, not really knowing where to put the dirty ones, threw them to a corner of the room. When he left, Teacher was kneeled at a low table piled with books. He motioned for Shinji to sit on the pillow across from him.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked.

Several answers came to mind, but Shinji just shook his head.

"It is a country called Germany. Since you will be living here for an extended period, you must learn the native language. Thus, in addition to your normal vocabulary and pronunciation lessons, you will start learning German as well," Teacher explained, patting one of the books on the table.

"Why do I have to live here?"

"Because it has been deemed necessary. No more questions now."

Shinji wanted to ask lots of questions, but Teacher waved them away as he was busied with the book full of not-right characters, where he learned how to say 'good morning' in German. But his pronunciation, as Teacher said, required extensive work. He wasn't sure what that meant, but Teacher didn't look pleased with him when he said the weird words.

It seemed to take forever for the sun to crawl up into this other sky, so long he could have sworn another day had passed by while his stomach grumbled. Teacher made soup that tasted like ash and syrup. At least, that's what he imagined ash and syrup would taste like together. It did little for his hunger and afterwards Teacher gave him permission to play outside.

Shinji stepped out of the front door, where several gray stones sat among a small sea of white rocks. Beyond that there were boulders jutting through the greenery, broken by woodchip pathways that led into bunches of trees with mossy heads of hair. Even further in there were other plants and bugs not unlike the ones at home. He was glad, however, to see the horned beetles were missing.

In the distance, on high and lording over it all, was the stone house that stood like a castle.

His right hand tightened around the SDAT and he marched forward, cautiously, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. He ventured down one of the safer looking paths, set wider apart than the others and lined with cobblestones.

The plants became stranger and stranger as he went. Narrow things with flat leaves, or stubbier ones with sharp stalks and pointy frills. The flowers were what really took his breath away – so many and in more colors than he even knew existed. Some looked like the water birds with the long legs that bent backwards, while others appeared to be balls of honeycomb. His nose began to itch with the plethora of new smells, becoming red and stuffy again.

The earth started to slope down and the pathway became less defined, giving way to wandering roots. Thin, spindly white trees stretched up higher than he could see into the canopies above, while a sea of orange ferns grew around the base of their trunks. A wind darted through the garden, clacking branches together and making the woods creak.

The foliage rustled further down the path and Shinji froze – jumping as a snake slithered onto the overgrown trail, its body slick and black. The thing seemed not to notice him as he staggered back, relieved it was heading in the opposite direction further into the valley.

The call of his name echoed over the garden and Shinji couldn't run fast enough back to his new house. He had not strayed far, and Teacher was waiting at the door to usher him in.

That night Shinji was in his room again, straining his ears for familiar sounds. The legions of cicadas had gone silent while a handful of crickets chirped, barely discernible over the humming of the frogs and their warbling voices. They'd never been this noisy at home.

 _Home_. He thought, wondering about his things and his bed and his toys. His favorite had been a black armored Samurai who went to space to fight aliens, but didn't age like other people did. In the show, he fought for so long that his home planet changed to become alien to him, while everyone there forgot about him and the battles he fought.

Shinji had ripped its arms and legs off in a fit. Was it still there, broken up on his bed? He wished he had brought it with him, but he didn't know how to fix it. Was that why he'd been sent away? Because he broke things?

A feeling like ice water spiraled down his back and he sat down, hugging his knees close. That must have been it. No one would want a boy who broke things. That's why he'd been sent away to this... other place, far away. The thought made his lips quiver, a warm sting touching his cheeks. He wished he knew how to fix himself. Maybe then his father would let him go back home.

The door to his room slid open and Teacher was there, standing over him. "You mustn't cry, Shinji. You must be a good boy from now on."

Little Shinji nodded, trying to wipe away his tears.

* * *

Despite his best attempts, Shinji had barely slept. Everything hurt and he was tired and his eyes burned and he hated this place. But Teacher didn't care. It was time for lessons.

The minutes stretched by and the lessons seemed harder. When he started to throw a fit, Teacher whacked his knuckles with a ruler. Shinji felt the sting on his cheek too, from when...

He behaved himself the rest of the day and as the sun started to sink, he was given an hour to himself before they resumed. He stood outside the small house again, the white rocks warm on his bare feet. An endless forest stretched out before him, bustling with birds and bugs. The snake from yesterday came to mind. He'd never seen one before outside of picture books. All he knew was that he didn't like them. This one had not been a very big one – and didn't have the rattle or patterned colors like in Teacher's books, all shimmering black scales as dark as night.

SDAT secured once more in his pocket, Shinji ventured forth, trying to remember the trail he had taken last afternoon. The walk was longer than before and as he wandered into the valley that had no flowers, he began to think he was lost.

He'd read stories like this, of children lured deep into the forests by spirits, never to be seen again. Here, the calls of the birds faded to echoes, and the fire-gold ferns seemed endless. He froze, straining his ears. The quiet was what told him he was in the right place. The ghostly white trees were like sentinels in the grove, keeping any that might have found shelter within their branches at bay.

He wanted to run, to just curl up and listen to his SDAT and dream the rest of the day away. But running would mean he would have to go back to that tiny house. Running would mean he would have to face Teacher and more lessons. Frowning, Shinji stepped into the grove, cautious – flinching at the crack of a branch or the squealing chitter of a squirrel. A whispering breeze chased the sun-baked air from the glade, shaking life into the still ferns along the forest floor.

The black snake slithered free and Shinji's heart stuck in his throat, its beat thundering in his ears.

The serpent wiggled into the valley and Shinji almost lost it as he gave chase, careful not to make much noise and scare it off. Could snakes even get scared? It came into view again, a shadow moving between the shrubs and roots. As if sensing him it began to move faster, winding in that unnatural way off the beaten paths of mulch and pebbles.

Shinji crashed through a scratchy bushel that snagged his shirt and went tumbling, elbows scuffing as they scraped across stone. He groaned, pushing his now aching body up. He couldn't lose the snake.

Shinji made it to his knees, searching, frantic – but it was gone. His small fist smacked into the stone.

Soon he stood and brushed off, new bruises coloring his knuckles. The flowers here changed to tints and shades of color unlike the bright, exotic hues near his house. Roses, he recalled, noticing the red ones right away. They skirted the edges of a wide stone walkway, stacked in front of one another, neat and ordered. The towering trunks sheltering the rest of the garden were absent, leaving the blue sky open and bare. Dark, pointed trees guarded the edges of the expanse and further back he could see a small dome with pillars, the castle having grown some in the background.

He meandered along the path, where roses on high bushes were perched atop their stalks. They made a series of rings around fountain bowls sprinkling water into a pond. Like a whisper, a sliver of color at the edge of sight called his eye. He was looking at the roses like before, but there was one flower that wasn't quite right. It had a green stalk and violet shades for its long, hanging frills struggling to grow within the gaps between the roses – which encased it in a cage of thorn-laced vines.

Lying next to the strange flower was something brown, white fluff sticking out of its torn chest. It was so stained and dirtied, he might never have noticed it was there if he'd just passed right by. Shinji picked the thing up and realized it was a monkey, or at least it used to be, before getting dirty and ripped up.

He looked around, trying to find its owner. They must have been worried over it. Looking up towards the castle, he saw a shadow in one of the windows. It was hard to tell since he was so far away, but he could have sworn he saw a brief wisp of flame.

* * *

It still smelled funny in Germany, thick and pungent, every intake hitting his nostrils with the force of a hurricane. Shinji sniffed, curling a little tighter in his small sanctuary, a squared out depression thick with soft grass. Most of the metal roof and walls had been worn away until sage and red splotches spattered what remained. The light from the sun still had difficulty reaching down through the thick branches high above.

It was quieter here and farther from the castle with the girl and the screaming.

Teacher said he was not allowed to go to the big house. Probably because he was broken. That was why he was sent to this garden with no one in it. He had been bad and now he was being punished.

Sometimes, though, he would find his way towards it. Where the garden ended and the wood and stone platforms began. Sometimes, when he was there just looking up at the massive building, he heard a girl's voice echoing through what must have been grand halls. Maybe the girl he'd seen before?

Face quirking, he fished out the SDAT and poked a bud in each ear.

 _Red hair_.

No one had red hair. She must have been a forest spirit. Only spirits had colored hair. But why did she live in the house? And why did she wear a dress? Ghosts didn't wear dresses... at least not like that. Ghosts were ugly too... and she wasn't ugly at all.

It didn't really matter all that much. Why would anyone up there care what he was doing down here? Still, he wished he had someone to play with. The only real playmate he had was the snake – and it was no playmate at all. More of an adversary, really. Maybe the reason no one came into the garden was because of the snake. Maybe they were afraid of it.

That _must_ be it.

As another day passed Shinji formulated what was, for a soon to be five-year-old, a brilliant plan. To begin, he set up a listening post from which to watch the snake. During his hour of recess, he went into the valley with the ghost trees, waiting for the slithering thing to appear. At the same time everyday it would come chasing out of the sunset ferns and travel down the narrow dirt path – up and out of the grove.

Shinji never chased it. Last time he followed it he'd gotten lost in those stone ruins by the castle. Yet it became more infuriating than anything to simply watch the snake. It was as though it were taunting him, smug in its assurance that he could neither catch it nor keep pace with it.

Shinji would show that stupid snake.

After perhaps a week, he was ready for the serpent when it wriggled free of the ferns, hiding behind one of the birch trees. Shinji pounced, fingers poised to snare the slithering creature. It moved like lightning, bolting beyond his falling trajectory before his hands even met the dirt. Even as it glided over the ground side to side, it didn't seemed perturbed by the incident in the slightest. Not even so much as an annoyed hiss. That just brought a snarl to Shinji's face.

The boy scrambled to his feet and ran after its black form. It only moved faster, darting between the plants in clever zig-zags. He chased it to no avail until his lungs stung from heaving breaths and his sides ached and his legs screamed for rest. Foliage smacked his face, branches snagging his clothes.

Shinji's foot thwacked against something hard and he fell flat on his stomach. Pain pulsed through his left knee, arms matted with dirt. He groaned, looking for the cause of his fall, before realizing the SDAT had skittered from his pocket.

It sat under the crux of a gnarled root, crumpled and oozing sap. He snatched it up quickly, lest the tree steal it from him. He searched the clearing for the snake – but it was gone, _again_.

Shinji blinked, craning his neck as he looked about. He hadn't been to this part of the garden yet. Thistles and thorn bushes closed off the clearing, wrapping around the other trees and plants to consume them in their biting embrace. All except the tree in the middle of the clearing, which they gave a wide berth.

The thing could have been from another planet for all its strangeness, twisting up as though it were made of huge roots and vines that curled around one another. Not a proper trunk at all. Its stubby branches reached out in jagged arcs, tiny leaves gathered around bunches of small purple-black balls. He blinked, grimacing as he tried to remember the things mother used to pick off the trees for him –

Apples!

These, however, looked nothing like apples.

Shinji collapsed by the base of the tree, legs too weak to hold him up anymore. His lungs were still starving for air and he obliged as best he could, wondering just how lost he was now. The snake had escaped him too. He'd done his best and even then he couldn't catch it!

As his expression twisted, he slapped his hands over his face, sliding them up into his hair and pulling. A frustrated growl clawed through his teeth before he let his hands fall into his lap.

"Du weinst viel."

Shinji jumped so fast he was sure his heart had popped out of his throat.

He edged back, wide-eyed gaze fixed upon the yokai-girl standing at the other side of the tree, hands on her hips. Those strange eyes were staring at him and he felt himself shrink.

"W-what?" he stuttered.

The girl's brow scrunched and her lips pouted. When he just stared – wishing his legs weren't frozen – her cheeks reddened and for a moment Shinji thought she might burst.

"Cry – a lot," she said, pointing at him.

Shinji wilted, perplexed all the same. He understood the words, but they didn't sound like they were supposed to. "No I don't," he said, rubbing his fists over his eyes, just to be sure there weren't any tears. There were.

The girl didn't seem to understand what he said and he wished he could speak her weird sounds. Why didn't everyone say the same things? Maybe then she would want to play with him. Did she know he was broken?

The girl only stared, as if wary. Shinji fidgeted, now wishing she would go away. Instead, the girl stepped over the gnarled roots and shoved him. He fell to his back, anger tightening his veins only to start shivering with cold as the girl stood over him, icy blue eyes glaring.

"Wer bist du?!" she demanded. Shinji quirked his head and made a questioning sound, which only seemed to make her angrier. The girl leaned over to poke his chest – hard. "Nah-meh?" she asked. It took him a moment because she said it so funny, but then he realized–

"S-Shinji," he squeaked.

She stood straight again, a finger touching her chin as she looked up. "Sh-in-ji," she repeated, nodding as she tested the name. Then, without warning, she snatched him by the wrist, drawing out a yelp as she tugged him to his feet. She was strong for a girl. He let himself be pulled along as she weaved a path back into the garden.

When she stopped, he almost sent both of them flailing. Her eyes scanned him up and down, ferocious and alive. Then, still holding his arm, she jabbed a thumb at herself and declared, "Asuka!"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Du weinst veil: You cry alot.  
Wer bist du? Who are you?


	2. Act I - Chapter 2: Grafted

**Chapter 2: Grafted**

* * *

Shinji hadn't seen her for six days.

At least, he thought it had been six days. He still had trouble telling time and six days seemed like long enough, even if it felt more like sixty-eight and a million. The sun seemed to stay out longer too, just to taunt him. He had asked Teacher about the girl one more time just the other day and as retribution was made to endure lessons past his bedtime. Sometimes he wished he could squish Teacher's head between his fingers. It was stuffy and stifling here and he didn't know anyone. Why had he been sent to this country?

 _Because you're broken, dummy_. _That's why Asuka doesn't want to play with you anymore_. There really wasn't any other explanation. She probably thought he was simple and stupid, but that was okay. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't run away. Where would he even run to? If his father didn't want a broken boy, who in the world would?

The slap of a book drew his eyes up, finding Teacher's stern expression. "I suppose we will break for now, since you are clearly preoccupied."

"Sorry Teacher," he said.

Teacher only grunted, standing to make himself tea. He made tea a lot. Shinji wobbled to his feet, glancing from his room and then the door. Even the heavy, choking air brought by the scorching sun held more appeal than his empty room. He struggled to push the front door open, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes as he stepped out.

A rock cracked into his head.

"Ow!" his hand flew up to grab the wound, head swinging side to side to find his attacker.

"Ich hab dich!" Asuka cheered, grinning.

Shinji almost forgot how much that hurt, water gathering at his eyes. He rubbed the spot sullenly, inspecting his hand for blood. There was a little.

"Sei kein Baby!" Asuka snapped, stomping a foot. At his befuddled look, she squeezed her eyes shut before saying, "you're a boy – ja?"

Shinji thought about picking up a handful of rocks and throwing them at her. But... she was a girl. Boys weren't supposed to hurt girls.

"Du kriegst mich nicht!" she sang, turning on her heels into the garden.

He ran after her, struggling to keep pace as she wove through the garden, disregarding the paths entirely. For a moment, he lost sight of her and panic bolted his heart, until he burst through one of the bushes and tumbled into a clearing. Groaning as he stood up in a cloud of dust, he found Asuka standing in front of the ugly tree they had first met at. Brushing his shirt down, he stumbled closer. A question started to form before the girl dashed forward, scrambling up the tree trunk.

"Asuka!" he cried, worry and excitement lacing his limbs as she wedged her hands into the knots to pull herself up. She was really close to the– the not-apples.

"What are those?" he asked.

She sent him a scowl, eye lids fluttering as though she were trying to figure out what he had said. She reached for the next branch. "Olives dummko–" she missed and slipped, hitting the ground with a loud _thud_ and a puff of dust.

Shinji started, only to stop halfway. The branches weren't very high, at least not like most of the other trees. What should he do? She rolled over with a pout that made him think of turning tail to find Teacher, but, if she was hurt...

"Stupid Shinji!" she yelled, rubbing her arm and seemingly on the brink of tears. "Du hättest mich auffangen sollen!"

He stiffened. "B-but I–"

She let loose a growl. "You're annoying," she said with a frown, opening her hand to reveal a few of the greenish olives in her palm, now a little squished. He eyed them suspiciously as the girl split one in half, digging a black pebble out and tossing it away before eating the mangled skin. It made his mouth water and he inched closer.

When she noticed, she closed her hand and turned to hide them. "Mine."

Shinji grimaced, but by the look on her face, he wouldn't be convincing the girl to share anytime soon. He looked to the tree and the nearby brush, spotting exactly what he needed. He snatched a long stick from the ground and, tongue pinched between his lips, reached up on his tippy toes to swing the branch at the hanging olives. Three more times he repeated the process, jumping on the third strike and causing a whole bundle to fall free. The bottom ones were dirtied, but the ones on the top looked tasty enough and he only had to rub them on his shirt a little.

Asuka looked down at her handful of olives and then back to his arguably larger catch.

She scooted over to where he crouched, shooting him a threatening glare when he opened his mouth. He picked one that was a deep red, doing like Asuka had done and ripping out the hard black thing inside. Before he could put it in his mouth, Asuka gave him a serious look and leaned close enough for her hair to try and stick to his sweaty face. "Zuerst schmeckts eklig. Also nicht ausspucken," she said.

He made a questioning grunt and Asuka poked her cheek, face pinching. "Taste bad – chew."

It tasted bad? He couldn't imagine why she would be eating them if that was the case. Either way he was far too curious to not do it now. So, he tossed the olive in his mouth and chomped.

His tongue shrank in on itself. A cheek burning flavor, worse than the black coffee he'd once snuck a sip of, turning rancid and shriveling his mouth to ash. It was so dry he might as well have been eating a fistful of grass! He wanted to spit it out, but a hand clamped over his mouth, planted there by Asuka.

"Chew," she commanded.

Face puckering, tears welled at the edges of his eyes – and not because he was sad, for once. A full minute went by as he chewed and the harsh, biting taste started to fade. His mouth felt slick and the throat tingling bitterness still wouldn't leave, yet the olive began to taste well... not quite so bitter. It nearly tasted sweet, like a hint of it as he swallowed, a sour touch disappearing with the remnants of olive. Asuka removed her hand as he did so and he smarted from the lingering aftertaste that hung about his mouth, clinging to the inside of his teeth. Like when his breath smelled really bad in the morning before he brushed.

Asuka smirked as he eyed another of the olives, popping one nonchalantly in her mouth.

They sat together and ate from the olive tree, fingers and shirts smeared and slick with their oils, mouths stained blue, until it was time for Shinji to return to his lessons.

The days proceeded more or less so.

Sometimes Asuka would come and find him, either waiting at the door to his house or throwing pebbles at his bedroom window in the afternoon. Play usually consisted of king of the hill – and Asuka always won. Victorious, she would claim he should be better at wrestling because he was a boy. He couldn't disagree. Other times they would see who could climb the olive tree the fastest. She always won that too.

Eventually, Asuka stopped waiting on him and invited herself into their house whenever she pleased, much to Teacher's displeasure. After a talk with her father – the man he'd met his first day – Asuka came in only when Shinji was allowed to play. Some days she wasn't there at all and others she was only outside for a few minutes. But as the months passed by, he grew used to the exotically haired girl and her mysterious house and the big garden, at times forgetting about his father far away.

He never saw the black snake again either, wondering if he'd merely been imagining it the whole time.

* * *

The dirt was cool between his fingers, a soft golden yellow mingling with the stubborn chunks of brown earth that hid it. Skin stained up to his elbows, Shinji continued to dig, using his fingers to shovel the now loose dirt up into a mound that nearly reached his chest. It needed to be bigger.

He gathered yet another armful atop the mound, sand collecting around his filthy knees. The thorn bushes cracked 'round the side of the olive tree and Shinji tensed, waiting for a flash of black scales by the roots. Instead, Asuka stepped out from behind the trunk, wearing a dark blue dress with a big red bow around her stomach. He quirked his face at that, but didn't ask about it. Talking was too hard sometimes since they didn't speak the same.

When she saw him, she just stayed by the tree's big roots, making him feel, like always, very small with those staring eyes. He glanced down at himself – yellow shirt marred with grass stains and smudges of dirt, nails and fingers utterly caked with it. His gray shorts with the big pockets he liked fared no better. Asuka, on the other hand, was not at all dirty. Her long hair was neat and brushed and tied back in twin tails.

"Why you here?" she asked. At least, that's what he assumed she had asked, pronouncing the words in that weird drawn-out way. He shrugged and gestured with splayed hands to his crumbling dirt castle.

Asuka bit her lower lip as she stood straight, arms tight to her sides. She looked to the trees and foliage around them, throwing her hands out and spinning. She set her bright blue eyes on him expectantly. He cast his gaze about, mouth making a big O. His focus fell to his half-finished mountain, fingers sinking into the dirt. "I don't know."

"What you mean?" she asked in muddled Japanese, making him bite back a snicker. Nostrils flaring, her hands squeezed into fists. "Bist du dumm?"

His mirth vanished. He hadn't learned what most of her words meant and she always talked slower when speaking his. But by her tone it probably wasn't something nice that she'd said.

"I have to live here. My dad says so," he answered, pushing a hand through the dirt and collapsing the upper half of the mound. The chunks spilled over into the trenches he'd dug, half covering the tiny roots that had been exposed in his excavations. Asuka didn't say anything and Shinji looked at the mess of his work. The idea he'd had when he started was shattered. He couldn't even remember what it was supposed to be anymore. He could try rebuilding it by himself, but the more he stared at it, the more hopeless the task seemed.

Asuka's shoes scuffed across the ground as she fell to her knees on the other side of the mound. Sitting up, she twisted her bow so that it was on her back instead. "Like this," she said, bending and scooping some of the dirt out of the trenches. He watched as her hands padded the dirt ever higher, shifting and swiping at it to make a smooth surface.

He started grabbing handfuls of dirt too and they quietly worked on the mound, staining their clothes and smearing their arms and faces with streaks of black. They made it perfect, all four sides inclining to a sharp point like the pyramids he'd seen in Teacher's books.

Asuka brushed her hands off on the ends of her dress, rising to a crouch with her knees together, hands resting on them as she appraised their efforts.

The birds and bugs sounded their calls in the late afternoon, and the sky was fading to a deep blue, streaks of white left behind by whining planes. In the days that followed, one way or another, they would always find themselves in the secret spot by the olive tree, eating fruit that no one else ate and building their own worlds together.

* * *

Shinji shivered as another soft, chilling wind swept through the trees and tickled his neck and arms. The sun was still bright and burning, yet the gardens welcomed a low breeze. He threw another rock, this time managing to skip it three times across the water, though it missed the stone statue by a wide arc. Pinching his tongue between his lips, he prepared another rock.

There was shouting and the toss went wide – again. Shinji turned to the source, sighting the taller spires of the mansion over the cherry trees. Answered by silence as he searched, he started to slink towards the back patio and did his utmost to be stealthy. It had been made law his first day that he wasn't allowed to leave the garden – yes, Teacher had made that very clear. So as long as he stayed within the border, there was no way he could get in trouble.

But Asuka hadn't been out to the gardens for several days now, maybe she would be just outside the mansion. He reached the edge of the treeline to see the house in full, just as a familiar girl burst out of an open back door.

"I don't want another stupid doll!" she cried.

Someone unseen called after her, stopping Shinji from doing the same. She disappeared into the dizzying array of flowers and tall ferns. He knew that side of the garden – that was where the rose bushes were. Frowning, Shinji entered the comparatively sparse part of the terraced plants, flanked by marble pillars and pointy Cypruses. He walked carefully, keeping a sharp eye out for Asuka. He found her in a wide ring of sandstone bordered by crimson roses, at the center of which was a fountain with a square pool. She had her back to him, staring into the bubbling waters. Inching forward, he approached her as one might approach a lion.

"A-Asuka?"

Her hair whipped as she spun to meet him. "What do _you_ want?"

He flinched. "I, uh... a-are you... okay?" he asked in a small voice. Her expression fell and she showed him her back, while his eyes met the stones at his feet. The thought of leaving twitched his hands, though he couldn't get his legs to move.

"Asuka?" He reached out to touch her. As if sensing his closeness, she tensed.

"No!" she screamed, turning and shoving him.

Shinji tripped, rosebush thorns ripping down his right arm as he fell. He hissed, struggling to sit up in the dirt as deep red streaks snaked down to his elbow, arm throbbing with fire.

Asuka's eyes went wide.

"Go away!" she shouted, dashing beyond the borders of the garden and leaving Shinji alone, his blood seeping into the earth around a foreign purple flower.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Ich hab dich! I got you!  
Sei kein baby! Stop being a baby!  
Du kriegst mich nicht! Can't catch me!  
Du hättest mich auffangen sollen! You should have caught me!  
Es wird schlimm ersten Geschmack, nicht ausspucken: It'll taste bad first, don't spit it out.  
Bist du dumm? Are you stupid?


	3. Act I - Chapter 3: Amaranthus

**Chapter 3: Amaranthus**

* * *

Shinji's fifth birthday came and went, and in another few months he would be six. Nothing special. The only reason he'd known the day had come around at all was because Teacher made rice balls with pickled plum filling, muttering a simple "congratulations". The rolls were much sweeter than the olives from the tree and he imagined Asuka might have liked that.

For a while, he had wandered the gardens alone, excitement blossoming in him as a flare of red caught his eye, only to wilt as he realized it was just a flower or some other plant. After pushing him into the rosebush, she'd disappeared from the world, making him wonder if he'd imagined her like the black snake.

Shinji would look longingly to the mansion he was not allowed near, thinking he might catch a glimpse of her in the windows and hoping she hadn't been sent to some far away place too. Eventually, he stopped exploring the garden and stayed near his small house, with his father's black cased SDAT there to fill his days. Old Japanese pop danced in the trees and pulsed through the clouds, while he contemplated the thin white line that ran down his wrist and to his elbow.

On a particularly muggy day, he'd been sitting on the front porch waiting for the time to ebb away when the garden called to him. The sun had been burning the white rocks at his feet and the beech tree leaves shimmered with light. SDAT in hand, he started walking along a familiar path, painted with jagged patchworks of shade, until he came to the gray-green olive tree. He stood in the small clearing around it, sun beating against him and throwing up waves of heat that made him squint. The chirping screams of the cicadas grew louder.

That was when he saw her.

She'd gotten a little taller since he last saw her, leaning against the trunk and looking at the ground. Thinking it must have been some sort of trick of the sun, he pulled the buds from his ears, blinking. When she realized he was there, surprise touched her expression, but was quickly swept away under a sullen mask. He fidgeted and considered leaving, gripping his SDAT tight. Her blue eyes held him in place, until she turned to face him fully and marched forward.

All he could do was stand there, trembling while his right arm throbbed.

Then, she flicked him in the nose. "Tag – you're it!"

He jumped and the girl ran back to the tree, spinning around to face him with a challenging smirk – as if it hadn't been months since she'd been away. Like they'd been with each other all along. His mouth fell open, closing as determination took hold and set him off after her.

All at once the days weren't so lonely anymore.

They climbed, argued over dirt mounds, and inevitably started throwing mud clods at one another. Which was innocent enough unless he got it in her hair. She'd slap him and scratch him, shrieking threats in German he had yet to learn. Then he'd retreat to the pond behind his house to nurse his wounds, where she would eventually find him, guarded but no less angry. She never apologized and he never demanded it of her, and their close proximity would quickly devolve into a scuffle to push one another in the water with the fish. He had succeeded only once, and caught a rock in the face immediately after.

They didn't fight so much after that, and Asuka insisted putting bandaids on the wound herself, berating him for not dodging.

Speaking German gradually became easier. But every time he thought he had a good idea of how to say things, they learned something new that completely changed how he was supposed to say them. Asuka started speaking more and more Japanese during his stay on the Langley estate, which was nice. At least his words were _already_ easy, unlike hers, which made his throat hurt sometimes.

Ever since he'd found her again, they'd rarely spent a day apart. Well – except today. Perhaps she was locked away in her castle again? Shinji couldn't be sure if that was actually the case, as he never knew what went on behind those big oak doors. Come to think of it, he had never seen much of Herr Langley since arriving either.

Venturing into the rose garden, it was then he realized there was a side to the house he'd neglected to explore. Around the bend, guided by white flowered trellises, were cordoned off boxes packed with dark soil, making neat rows in the shadow of their mansion.

Herr Langley was bent over one of these, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows. A skinny sort of man with broad shoulders and a tired posture, graying hair cut short and neat. Asuka was beside him wearing that blue dress again, diamond earrings glittering in the sunlight.

For Shinji's part, shorts and a dirty sleeveless shirt were pretty much it.

Langley caught sight of him, a grin attempting to tug at his mouth, but coming out as a displeased grimace. With a nod, he signaled Shinji over and the boy approached, nervously. Asuka was glaring at him. He tried for a smile and was studiously ignored.

"Here, look," Langley said, black smudged fingers carving out narrow lines in the dark earth. He instructed each of them to hold out their hands.

"We're going to plant some radishes," he said, pouring seeds into their palms. Then they sprinkled them into the hand-carved fissures, soon spreading the dirt back over them and matting it gently. He let Asuka water the dirt and she tossed some at Shinji, smiling impishly when he frowned and sticking her tongue out.

"What are you doing?" Langley demanded, taking it back. "Don't be so careless."

Asuka's expression was snatched away with it and she put her hands behind her back. "Sorry, papa," she mumbled, though he didn't seem to have heard her. Flecks of brown fell as he brushed his hands off on his black pants, motioning them to follow. Shinji stayed a few paces behind, watching as Asuka's body went rigid every moment he strayed too close.

All about there were other vegetables and plants he didn't have names for, some with bushy heads or thick vines. Shinji didn't have time to ponder them as Langley brought them back into the rose garden, naming each flower and where it came from instead. _Rosa_ , white pink and mulberry shades from North Africa. _Gallicanae_ , crimson roses from western Asia and Europe. _Hesperrhodos_ , a yellow flower from North America – his favorite.

Then, just beyond the roses were these bunches of tiny pink buds, some darkening to a soft purple. Asuka gasped when she saw them, gliding her fingers through their many petals. That made Herr Langley chuckle.

"These are Lilacs," he said, plucking one and fitting it into Asuka's hair by an ear. "They were your mother's favorite."

Shinji wondered what _his_ mother's favorite flowers had been. Maybe the cherry blossoms back home?

 _Home_. That place wasn't home anymore. He couldn't even imagine it – what the walls looked like, how it had smelled. All he managed to picture was broken glass and pain. Besides, she wasn't here anymore and there weren't any cherry blossoms in Germany. None that he knew of.

He wanted to go home.

It spoke to him in a whisper then, that accent of reddish purple, flowers hanging from its stalks like moss. He stumbled as he walked to it, falling to his hands and knees. The stones scuffed his shins, but he could see under the rose bushes where a small, lone bundle of flowers struggled for light between them. This was the flower he'd fallen by when Asuka had pushed him, his blood long since absorbed into the soil and washed away by the rains.

Footsteps scratched against the stone as Langley knelt behind him. Asuka peered over Shinji's shoulder, touching the lilac so it stayed in her hair.

"Amaranthus," Langley said, brow knitting. "I'm not sure what it's doing in the rose garden..."

Asuka touched Shinji to steady herself, trying to catch a whiff of it. "It's pretty," she said, nose scrunching. He tried to smell it too, but found only the honey-sweet scent of the roses.

Langley nodded. "The color never fades, even when the flower dies. Love-Lies-Bleeding they call it in America." his calloused fingers reached out, letting the fluffy tendrils slide over his fingers. It was slow and gentle, a parting touch as the tip of it slipped free, swaying from his grasp. His face fell, eyes becoming glassy as the light seeped out of them. In a moment, Shinji saw his father kneeling there instead.

Langley stood, turning to walk back to the castle without a word. Perplexed, panicked, Asuka struggled to catch up, tugging onto his pants leg.

"I want to see more flowers papa," she said, practically demanding.

He sighed, tugging free. "No. Not today."

Slipping from her grasp, he left them standing by the fountain. Asuka stared long after he disappeared into the house. Shinji hauled himself up, trading glances between the Amaranthus and Asuka. Why did they give such a pretty plant such a sad name?

"Your dad's nice," he said.

"Be quiet," Asuka snipped. "This is your fault anyway."

She tugged something from a pigtail and started off. He moved to follow, her name on the tip of his tongue, when something feathery crunched under foot, the lilac from her hair now stamped flat into the stone.

* * *

Shinji didn't know how he found her or what led him there, maybe because it was one of the few places he had come to make his own in the past year, a distant shelter away from Teacher and the castle. The old shed stuck out, sore and rotted at the edge of the garden. On the other side of which were sprawling dandelion fields, disrupted here and there by thin bundles of trees.

A big, golden brown dog, floppy ears and black nose, was attacking Asuka. Why was she laughing? He'd already started running to her as fast as his almost-six-year-old legs could manage, when he realized the dog was only licking her.

Asuka rolled onto her belly at the crunch of grass, smiling face swept away at the very sight of him. Was it really that bad, just looking at him? He hadn't meant for her dad to leave. How was it his fault anyway? It was because he'd found that weird flower, wasn't it?

He was always messing things up.

Asuka sat up, her back to him, and dug her fingers behind the dog's ears, bowing her head to one side so he couldn't lick her face. Cicadas screamed, basking in a heat that swallowed up any cooling breezes there might've been. He should have left, he knew. He didn't have a mom or dad, or a dog and a nice house with a huge colorful garden. That was why Asuka didn't like him. They were different. _He_ was different. Even her dad got sad just being around him. It seemed to be the only thing Shinji was able to do.

Still, the waves of sunlight radiating across the fields of yellow kept his feet snug in the grass. The weeds snared his legs, pulling him down to their warmth.

"I didn't know you had a dog," he said after a sudden rush of wind.

"He's not my dog," she said, in place of yelling or scratching. She patted the pup's shoulders. "I call him _Panzer_."

The unfamiliar word rang through one ear and out the other. "What's that mean?"

Asuka stuttered, grasping for the word in Japanese. "Tank."

"Tank," he repeated, nodding. It wasn't anything he would have named a dog, though sounded right all the same.

It was a golden retriever, the neighbor's dog, often coming to visit the garden and the red haired girl that gave him treats and pets – or so she explained. Shinji approached the two, keeping a good foot between him and Tank. He'd never seen a dog this close before, or teeth that could probably rip his arm off.

"You can pet him," Asuka said, as if he needed her permission. He just–

The girl grabbed his hand and shoved it into Tank's fur and Shinji froze – what else could you do when you were about to be torn to pieces? No such punishment came and instead the retriever began coating his entire face in saliva.

From then on, if they weren't by the olive tree, they were playing tag with Tank out in the fields. Asuka taught him how to fetch, using a five-year-old boy in place of sticks. No matter how fast Shinji would run, how expertly he'd juke, one way or another Tank would snag him by the shoulder of his shirt and dutifully drag him back to Asuka.

Herr Langley never came out to check on the radishes again. Sometimes Gepard, the groundskeeper, would amble by and water them, while he and Asuka watched from the fountain near the roses.

Weeks after, Shinji followed her voice through the trees, drawn by the unusual call in the gardens.

"Taaank! Taaank!"

The dog always answered to this special name. Now, he was nowhere to be found and both of them had to wonder if the family living in the pastures beyond the hill had moved. They discovered as much was true later from Herr Langley.

Asuka hadn't cried and had even asked her father for a dog of her own. Langley promised to do so if she was good.

For the next few weeks she towed Shinji out by the old shed and the dandelion fields, where they waited for Tank to appear over the hill. For a while Asuka wasn't quite so angry at him and taught him how to make circlets out of the flowers in the fields, demanding he make one for her each afternoon. She wore them when he finished and left them behind when night came crawling.

Her father kept promising and promising. "Soon, Asuka, you have to be patient," he said with a knit brow, shooing her out of the house. Eventually, when it began to settle in that Tank was gone for good, Asuka stopped looking to the hill, nor demanded he make flower circlets for her.

Herr Langley never did keep his promise.

* * *

Shinji's front teeth were missing.

He kind of thought he would lose them to Asuka at some point, but these had fallen out on their own. They'd been loose for the past week and he had assumed the problem would sort itself out eventually. It had, in a way. When he presented his fallen teeth to Teacher, on the brink of tears, the man had explained this was only natural.

Asuka had lost most of her teeth when she was four, before they met, the last one being the gap where her lower center tooth had been. Part of the reason she didn't grin so much now, prompting a stage of near-silent communication between them. Mostly because she kept making fun of him for the way his words whistled without his front teeth. She'd even made a game out of getting him to talk, usually by prodding him with sharp sticks or pretending she was sad just to get him to ask, "what's wrong?"

So he'd given her the cold shoulder one day and she'd kicked sand in his face, furious. Even now he thought he could still taste the grit in his mouth. As he entered the foyer through the back of Asuka's castle, some sort of sitting room, he hoped it didn't make his breath smell. There was also the niggling urge to go home and wash up. He'd been playing under the olive tree – digging for worms to be exact. They liked the soil near the roots, where it was rich and moist. The water from the fountains had washed most of it off by the time he was sent for, by Asuka no less.

" _Oma-ma_ wants to see you," she'd said, in that serious way that always made him a bit frightened of her. The word sounded familiar – _grandma_?

The woman sat by the window, meeting him with a kind smile as she set her tea cup down. For an old person, she didn't have that many wrinkles, and he could tell she _must_ have been really, really old for her hair to be so white and her eyes to be so squinty.

"So," she began, folding her hands in her lap. "You are the boy who's been keeping my little Asuka company."

" _Oma_ ," the girl said it like a warning, having sat herself in the chair to his right and trying to look taller with her back straight. "He's not keeping me company... he's just some boy..." she muttered, throwing him a dismissive glance.

Shinji flinched, trying to keep his chin up as all manners escaped him. He bowed, stopping halfway as he realized people didn't do that in Germany. So he stood stiff at attention and stuck out his hand, hoping she didn't notice how dirty it was.

"I'm Shinji Ikari, um," he paused, trying to remember the right words, "how old are you?"

Asuka groaned, dragging a hand down her face. He'd messed up again, hadn't he?

 _Oma's_ dark eyes narrowed as her smile lifted against her high cheek bones. If she noticed how filthy he was, she didn't seem to mind, taking his small fingers in her withered, liver-spotted hand.

"You may call me Ilka and I am seventy-nine, _junger_ Shinji," she leaned a little closer to whisper, "though most might consider it impolite to ask a lady how old she is."

It took him a moment to absorb what she'd said as she patted his hand and released her hold. He took a step back, nodding. "Sorry."

"You can go away now," Asuka said, standing and sidling up next to her grandma's chair.

Ilka _tsked_. "Don't be rude, child." she said, to which Asuka pouted. Something white jiggled by her ears and Shinji realized she had pearls to match the ones hanging from Ilka's neck. Asuka wasn't clad in the usual dresses either, but instead wore a deep, oak leaf green that seemed just a little too big on her.

"Shinji," the elder said, putting her back straight, "why don't you run off and wash up? Asuka and I will be along shortly."

Shinji did so, free from Asuka's glares and the stuffy smells – it didn't feel right. He didn't belong there. He was just some boy.

The two came by his tiny house in the garden, though avoided going inside. Grandma Ilka spared Teacher little more than a cursory glance and he lent her much the same. A brief frown came to her lips as she took in his simple Japanese-inspired dwelling. It wasn't really much of a house, but more of a shack with extra rooms. Shinji preferred it that way. What would he do in a big house that didn't have lots of people? Wouldn't that be lonely?

Really, he wasn't any less alone here. He supposed it didn't really matter where someone lived when no one wanted them. It didn't feel good, but he was starting to get used to the idea.

Even if she didn't like where he lived out in the Langley's beautiful garden, Grandma Ilka was nothing but kind and patient. She didn't know a lick of Japanese, but didn't scowl at him when he stuttered his German. In her hands she carried what sounded like metal pipes, all wrapped in brown paper. Unfurling it, six copper tubes dangled from a platform of wood and string, echoing with a hollow ring that resonated over the air, as if the notes were floating. Ilka hung them on the back porch nearest his bedroom window.

When he asked why, she said, "Because it invites good spirits to visit and keep you safe, child."

Later, she sat them by the piano and taught them how to play some of the keys, while Asuka tried to bump him off the seat without Ilka noticing. There was dust on it when they first opened the lid and it had taken a few minutes to clean. Asuka couldn't quite reach all the notes for the lullaby Ilka was teaching them, but neither could he. So she had them play the notes on their respective sides when the song demanded it.

Ilka lived far in the south by Munich, so didn't get a chance to visit often. She was there only for a brief time, gone all too soon. After she left, his friend was, in a cruel sort of way, nicer to him. Shinji was allowed every so often to play the piano, just with her and only the songs she wanted to play. That was fine. There weren't any other songs he knew how to play anyway.

However, for the night after Grandma Ilka departed, Shinji stowed his father's SDAT away. The ringing chimes at his window whisked him off to sleep, and he pretended it was his mother outside touching the bells.


	4. Act I - Chapter 4: The Letter

**Chapter 4: The Letter**

* * *

Seven-year-old Shinji Ikari cried out as he fell hard onto his back, a pair of hands pinning his shoulders to the ground.

"I win!" Asuka shouted, grinning as she rolled off him. Rising to sit, he sniffed, something wet sliding down his upper lip. Touching a finger to his nose, he found blood and frowned as he wiped a sleeve across his face, not sure at what point in their wrestling that had happened.

When he stood, Asuka was already by the olive tree, carving a line into the trunk with a sharp rock. There were more marks down its left side than he cared to count, and over them was a big A. Across from it was a comparatively smaller S, which wore exactly 13 marks, and Asuka had definitely made sure those few victories weren't worth it. It was far easier to just lose – much fewer bruises that way.

Asuka glanced back at him and started climbing the olive tree while Shinji ran to catch up. The nooks and notches were worn and smooth from use, and they ascended to the crux in the winding trunk.

It was difficult to believe he had spent nearly three years in Germany now. It didn't even feel that long. He was definitely a little taller than he remembered, with a little less fat here and there. Then again, he'd never had much to begin with, always being a bit of a lanky boy. But this year he was actually just a little taller than Asuka, much to her chagrin.

Now, summer winds whispered through the trees, making it sound like the crash of the seashore. Asuka sat on the branch above him, feet bouncing against one another.

"I'm going to tell you a secret," she said, staring into the treetops. "A while ago, they picked me to be an elite pilot and it's really important. But if you tell _anyone_ , I'll hurt you."

The threat went unheard as Shinji's face quirked. "Pilot? Like for airplanes?"

"No, dummy!" she snapped, batting him on the head. "I can't tell you, it's secret."

Her name rang out over the garden, a call from an unseen woman beyond the trees near the castle. Asuka's face twisted and she sat straight, lingering in place for a moment.

She regarded him with a serious expression. "Don't tell anybody," she said, climbing down from the tree and only stumbling a little as she ran off towards her red brick house.

Shinji watched her disappear, rubbing his head. He didn't see what the big deal was. It wasn't like he had anyone else to talk to. What the heck was she a pilot for anyway? What else did people pilot but airplanes? Was she talking about spaceships? The more and more Shinji thought about it, the more it made his head ache.

He never really complained or put up a fight when Asuka acted so weird all the time. If he did, she might leave. Even though it had been a year since they'd started playing again, every time she went home he feared it might be the last time he ever saw her, and anxiously awaited her visits day by day.

As the sun began to set, Shinji knew it was time to return home. He made his way back through the low and humid air, his feet rattling the rocks as he stepped up to the front porch. Closing the door after himself, he set his small shoes off to the side next to Teacher's. The man grimaced as he padded into the living room, but didn't comment on his dirtied arms and grass-stained clothes. Shinji washed, bathed, and changed. As he did, he saw the SDAT player sitting on the edge of his table, cords wrapped around its frame.

He picked it up, acid spilling into his veins and burning him from the inside. He tossed it to the other side of the room, resolving to sit and do worksheets until bedtime. As equations stretched over the pages and blurred together, he kept glancing back to the SDAT where it lay by his closet.

The time bled out forever, the paper under his pencil blank, all while chimes sang outside. Shinji stood, snatched up the music player and plopped down at his desk – nestling the buds in his ears.

* * *

The morning was crisp, as it always seemed to be in Germany. The stool Shinji used to reach the kitchen counter allowed him to see out the window and into his garden. The mists had dispersed and the waking birds sang their disjointed, but harmonious chorus. The bees had begun their work early, bouncing between the fluffy white edelweiss and sunset-burned fire lilies.

"Your soup is boiling," Teacher said.

Shinji looked to him, then to the pot and yelped – turning the heat off and fumbling to add the spring onions he had cut earlier. He slid the pot off the burner, mixing everything with a wooden spoon. Teacher twitched his nose at it and gave him a look that said, 'it will have to do'.

"Sorry," Shinji said, bowing far too low.

Teacher was mute and they prepared the morning meal at the table. Miso soup, steamed rice and an omelet cooked with onions and green peppers. Once everything was laid out, he waited for Teacher to sit before doing so himself. He gave thanks, in Japanese and German, before grabbing the table's sake bottle to fill Teacher's cup. As he did, the man grabbed a white envelope from under the table and slid it across to him. It was blank save for a single red half-leaf in the upper left corner.

His face pinched and he looked up. "What is it?"

"The sake."

"Wuh– ah!" the liquid spilled over the rim of the cup, and he knocked several dishes over trying to clean up the mess.

Teacher sighed, but waited for him to finish.

"A letter from your father," he finally said, taking a moment to pinch rice from his bowl. "You may read it once we are done eating."

The miso soup was the first thing to go. It was the easiest to down without appearing indecent, with the minor consequence of practically scalding his throat. The rice, however, was more of a challenge. Shinji managed to stuff his mouth full when he thought Teacher might not notice. His portion of the omelet was soon devoured as well, but he succeeded only in finishing before Teacher did, whom he still had to wait on, as etiquette dictated.

However, despite having never looked up at him once, Teacher nodded. Shinji snatched the envelope from the table and tore it open:

 **Gehirn Operations Department,  
Research and Analysis Center,  
Tokyo-3**

Director Ikari Gendo,  
To Ikari Shinji,

Under the War Measures Act 2001, you are hereby ordered to active duty for training for the period shown, which will be followed by deployment orders upon the completion of training unless sooner released or extended by proper authority.

Period: 5 years  
Report To: Gehirn Offices, Lichtenberg  
Reporting Date: RPT between 0730 & 0800 Hours. 30 August 2007  
Attached To: Joint Research Unit, E Project, Section 3  
Purpose: Third Child, Pilot

Shinji's brow scrunched, nerves tingling warmly at his neck. He flipped the paper over, searching the back. But it was just this – artificially worded and with his father's name stamped on it.

"Active duty? Training?" Shinji asked, the paper crunching in his hand. "What does this mean?"

Teacher set down his soup bowl. "It means you have a great responsibility now."

"To do... what?"

"What your father requires of you."

Shinji frowned, looking back down at the paper. He remembered what Asuka had said, something about being a pilot. But what exactly was it his father wanted him to do?

"What's... _brain_?" he asked, pointing to the German word.

Teacher didn't even look as he finished chewing a mouthful of omelet. "It is your father's work and it is for the benefit of all mankind."

"My father's work..." Shinji repeated, holding the paper before him proper again. _It isn't fair_. He thought, throat tight and burning. He pursed his lips, resisting the urge to rip the letter up into a hundred tiny pieces. Teacher disliked such useless displays of emotion.

Rocks clattered outside, followed by fading footfalls. Shinji looked up, a bit of light creeping in down the hall from the open front door.

* * *

"Time to go," Teacher said, slipping his shoes on. Shinji did the same and followed him around to the front of the mansion, where a black car was waiting for them.

The countryside melted away to sprawling suburbs and cityscape. The buildings were much taller here, glittering blue glass and powerful gray concrete. There were dozens – hundreds of people and cars. Shinji could hardly take it all in. But they only passed around the city and never reached some of the taller skyscrapers, much to his disappointment. The buildings became sparse, until they rolled into an area with huge pipes that puffed black smoke, caged by metal towers with wires and other apparatuses he didn't have names for. The car ground to a halt in front of a building he could only describe as pressed flat, flanked by tall fences with spiraling razor wire at the top.

As they got out, Shinji saw a marble tablet that read:

 _Gehirn_

 _Sum et, scio ut, ergo fui_

At the door, Teacher input a code and Shinji jumped as the door buzzed, drawn away by hydraulic snaps. He shivered as they entered, a wash of cold air spiraling down his shoulders and making goosebumps spread up his legs. His shoes squeaked as they stepped further in, the only noise in the whole building. There was a long white hallway that led to a window in the wall, two doors on either side of it.

Teacher handed someone on the other end some papers and they talked quietly. Shinji looked around and found a lone painting mounted on the plain beige walls. It was a strange landscape with naked people – and looked nothing like his garden. One of the people even had red hair.

A door creaked and Shinji turned to find a pale man with slicked back black hair, and glasses that made him think of an owl. The man, sparing a smile, looked to Teacher and bowed before offering his hand. His instructor bowed and then they shook. The man in white turned his dark blue-green eyes on Shinji, leaning over slightly as he spoke in German, "Good morning, little Shinji."

Shinji's face smarted. Even Asuka's dad called him _junger Herr_ now. _Young_ _Sir_ sounded way cooler than little Shinji. He was always little Shinji.

The man just smiled and his shoulders shook with a huff. "I am Doctor Adrian Lützow. Follow me, please."

Lützow opened the door and led Shinji through a labyrinth of glass panes that reached up to the ceiling, their lower halves covered with metal that warped his reflection. He was too short to see over them, so couldn't tell what was going on inside. After making a dizzying series of twists and turns down halls that felt too long, Lützow opened the door to one of the glass rooms, where a small table sat in the middle. Lützow took a seat one side, adjusting his big white coat. Shinji hesitated as the man looked to him expectantly and he glanced up at Teacher, who nodded towards the table.

Shinji climbed onto chair opposite Lützow, sitting on his knees to be higher up since the table was made for adults. In front of him were four large cubes and one small one. The Doctor had the same on his side.

"Do you like to play games, Shinji?"

He nodded.

"So do I. Would you like to play?"

Another nod.

"Okay, Shinji: I'm going to take my little cube and tap on these other cubes. When I'm done, I want you to take your cube there and copy me exactly. Can you do that? If you win our games today, I'll give you a special treat." with that, Lützow took his tiny cube and made Shinji repeat his patterns of tapping. After a little bit, it was hard to remember which ones he had tapped and in which order, but the man didn't say he'd lost – so he must have won when they finally stopped.

Lützow's pen scratched across his clipboard and the Doctor looked up at him again. "Very good, Shinji. There is one more thing before you go." He bent down nearby and set a piece of paper on the table, as well as a small box of crayons every color of his garden. "I want you to draw yourself."

Shinji's brow pinched and his lips pouted in thought as he stared at the blank paper. He glanced at the glass walls, but they were too clear for him to see himself very well. So he turned back and said, "I don't know what I look like."

Lützow smiled. "Just draw what you think you look like."

Shinji frowned, but took one of the crayons and started to draw anyway. He began with the head, of course, marking his way down to the body and glancing at his clothes a few times to check what color they were.

So focused on his task, he almost didn't notice as Teacher asked, "Why the drawing?"

Shinji lifted his head but neither of them were paying any particular attention to him. Lützow looked up from his clipboard and nodded to the paper, so Shinji went back to drawing, the Doctor's quiet voice followed soon after.

"It is to give us a general idea of his current state of mind, based on how he perceives himself. It helps us learn how he thinks and gives us clues as to why. Now keep in mind I can't tell you much without proper clearance, you understand."

Shinji's brow furrowed, thoroughly lost. He heard Teacher grunt. "Of course."

"Good, just know it will allow us to predict potential irregularities in the neural impulse system, and hopefully correct them down the line. As you can see, the small figure and lack of legs denotes instability and insecurity. Thus far he has arms, but the hands are hidden behind his back – difficulty with communication. Also note that the face is lacking in more distinct features with the exception of eyes – he has a very weak sense of identity."

Shinji fell out of the conversation after that. He didn't really get it anyway and Teacher would only scold him if he asked questions. When he was done drawing, Lützow clipped the paper to his board and stood. "Alright, _junger Herr_ , we're all done for the day. You did very well and I will see you again tomorrow." he said and held out a lollypop. Shinji snatched it from his hand and tore the wrapper off, deciding that perhaps Doctor Lützow wasn't so bad afterall.

When they returned to the Langley estate later in the day, it was straight back to lessons. The silver clock on the wall said it was six when Teacher dismissed him early. He wasn't sure why, but wasn't going to stick around to complain.

Outside, there were tinges of light left from the retreating afternoon, although it was dark enough for someone to trip over a rock if they weren't careful.

"Oww!" a girlish voice wailed.

Shinji searched the brush. It could only be– "Asuka?" he asked, poking his head around the other side of a tree, but finding no one around. Disappointed, he turned around and continued through the brush, passing by a stream towards the small little grove that hid the old shed. As the bugs and critters continued to call in the twilight, every now and then a twig would break or leaves would crunch, but he found no one there the moment he spun around. One time he thought he saw a flash of red.

The stars were clear in the sky by the time he came to the hollowed out husk. He sat in the grass, losing himself in the feeling of awe and majesty. They were always so bright as they blanketed the sky with their light, especially out here where the city rays couldn't hide them. According to Teacher, one day some of the stars would disappear because years and years away they had already died, it just took longer for their light to reach Earth. The idea made Shinji cold, like when the gray rains kept him inside. At the same time, it filled him with wonder that a star could still burn after it was gone.

"So what if they picked you too."

Asuka stood over the pit and he jumped back against a rotting piece of wood. She hopped down and kicked him in the leg. "That doesn't make you special!"

"W-what?"

"Don't be dumb!" Asuka stood over him, hair lit up by the moon. She pressed a hand against his chest to pin him, the look in her eyes making his heart quiver. "I was picked first," she said, pushing hard, "don't _ever_ forget it!"

She turned and ran off into the night, releasing the stinging pressure on his lungs. He grabbed at the spot her hand had been, legs curling up to his chest. Picked first? Shinji didn't even know what he was doing here. All he understood was that it was important to his father. So if he kept doing whatever it was Teacher and Lützow told him to do, father would come for him.

Wouldn't he?

* * *

Dark clouds billowed over the gardens, making the leaves shiver as the winds danced through them. But Shinji knew it wouldn't rain today. Normally it got stuffy and hot before that happened, making the plants shimmer with sparkling water, while the greens and purples and reds glowed vibrantly in the next day's scorching heat.

The mulch was soggy as Shinji walked down a familiar path, a thick, raw pine smell clogging his nose. He had to go off the marked trail for one that was discreet, but well trodden. There he found the huge olive tree that lorded over its small clearing, the grass and rocks worn at from years of play.

Looking up, the fat tree curled upwards with its strange trunk, splitting down the middle as the branches parted and blanketed the clearing with a pleasing umbrella of shade. The tiny dark green leaves glistened, as did the olives that remained on their branches. They had ripened now, changing from a bright green to a purplish black.

He could actually climb the olive tree pretty well on his own – though Asuka was still much better at it.

It always seemed so much harder by himself.

The thought made his face pinch, so he started to climb. As he reached the notch in the trunk where the branches split off, he realized all of the olives within reach had been picked already. Tearing away one of the empty bundles of leaves, he resolved to climb higher for his prize.

He must have nearly made it to the top, because the world looked far away when he glanced down. Fear pulled at his heart and he clung to the tree branches tighter. Asuka had fallen out of the tree a lot when they first started playing. But not anymore, she was like the monkeys he read about in his books – ascending easily and effortlessly. Swallowing, Shinji looked back up to the bundle of black olives, just a few more feet beyond his reach.

Cracking the branch free – it had the most on it – he started his descent. As he neared the bottom, he jumped off, nearly tumbling to the ground face first. That was when he noticed a sliver of red poking out from the other side of the tree.

Asuka was standing by the trunk, an air of indecision hovering about her in the way she lingered close to the tree with her hands pressed up against it, watching him.

He held out the branch to her. Glancing from him to it, she snatched off a handful of olives and started fishing out the cores. So he sat down, plucking out his own while still holding out the branch, which she would pick from every so often until the thing was nearly barren. When she eventually sat down amidst the roots with him, he assumed he must have been forgiven for whatever it was he'd done.

"I wonder if they picked other kids to pilot," he said, daring a furtive glance to see if he'd provoked a reaction.

"Of course they did, dummy," she almost sighed, pulling her eyes away from the castle and sparing him an annoyed squint.

"Then why aren't they here?"

"How should I know?"

He shrugged, sitting up and crossing his legs. "I wonder how many there are?"

She tossed one of the olive cores at him. "My papa says you're the Third."

 _Purpose: Third Child, Pilot,_ the letter from his father had said. Wait, if he was the Third, why were there only two of them here?

"Does that mean you're the First?" he asked – then paused, thinking better of it, "who's the Second?"

Asuka's eyes flashed. "It doesn't matter. Just a stupid number," she grumbled, jaw tight. The girl folded her knees up to her chest, hugging her arms around them as a hard look came over her expression. "I'm going to be the best."

That took Shinji aback, silencing any other thoughts he might have wanted to voice. Yet the air that settled over them was companionable and they sat in the quiet of the garden for a little while longer, sharing in the shade of the tree.

* * *

It wasn't long before the two resumed their regular routine, albeit with a bossier Asuka. All the while, Shinji's body ached. It was an itch in the back of his brain, as though he'd have to dig into his own skull and scratch at membrane just to subdue it. He didn't sleep very well at night, faceless wraiths spilling ominous shadows over his dreams.

It was one of the few reasons he'd journeyed deep into the garden today, to places not even the groundskeeper Gepard traversed anymore. You could tell because it was riddled with the yellow dandelion weeds. They came here not so long ago to play with Tank. Asuka hadn't liked coming back since he left.

The clouds drifted overhead, completely free and without worry. Shinji wondered what it would be like to be one of those clouds. What it would be like to just sail in the sky forever with just the birds and mists to keep him company.

For now, he was sitting in the abandoned shed Asuka had found him in nights ago, watching the sky pass by while cooled under the patchwork shade of the trees. Sunlight doused the leaves of the oaks and maples and birches, making them glow. The music from his SDAT danced in his ears, adding a serene quality to the forest around him. He liked it when he could pretend the world was always this beautiful. He felt it reminded him of something – or someone. He could never really be sure, since it came only as a half-remembered dream, indistinct and shapeless. It was more like a feeling than anything else.

"Whatcha' doin'?" red hair cascaded over his sight, a pair of blue eyes demanding his attention.

Shinji's face twisted and he pulled his earbuds out, pointing past her. "Clouds."

Asuka rolled her eyes. "That's boring!" she whined, grabbing his right arm and yanking him up. Shinji didn't resist. "Come on," she said, marching him out of the valley and up towards the castle.

"Why?"

"I wanna' climb the olive tree."

"Do it by yourself..." Shinji grumbled and received a stinging flick on the nose. "Ow!" he cried, falling on his rump and shooting her a sour look, one hand rubbing his red nose.

"What are you being so weird for?" she asked, brow scrunched.

Shinji bit back the mean words on the tip of his tongue. He wasn't weird. He didn't voice the protest, she would only punch him or kick him and he was _not_ getting beat up by a girl today. Instead, he crossed his legs, hands clasping his ankles as he rocked on his butt, eyes fuzzing with green as he stared into the grass. "It's been a whole three years and... he still hasn't come for me. He said I'd only be gone for a while."

Shinji knew very well what the letter had said. He'd wasted away hours in his room reading it over and over until he was sick. It said he was supposed to be trained for the next five years, but why couldn't he go back and do that stuff there with him?

Asuka asked him once why he had come here. He'd told her because his dad had sent him away. They didn't really talk much about it again, but she'd been... gentler around him after that, nicer, even. At least, nice in the same sense that a lion only scratched your arm open instead of out right eating you. He wondered, briefly, if all girls were like that.

Asuka shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't want you."

"That's not true!"

"Then why hasn't he come back for you yet?" she sneered, leaning forward.

Shinji looked away. "That's– that's because he... he just..." his hands folded tight and he wanted to hit something. But she was right, wasn't she? If he'd learned anything about Asuka, it was how much smarter she was than him, so of course she would know about this stuff too.

Shinji's nose twitched and his mouth tugged down. He squeezed his eyes shut – maybe if he pretended hard enough, it would be a dream. Maybe his father really was coming back for him–

"What are you crying for?" Asuka snarled. Shinji opened his eyes to find the world a blur, his face streaked and wet. His friend was standing and glaring at him, fists clenched at her sides. "Stop it!" she shouted, shoving him. "Crying is for babies!"

"I'm not a baby!" he wailed. The rosebush came to him again, the scarlet liquid that smelled like metal spilling over his arm and onto his clothes, while she left him there next to that strange flower.

"Yes you are," she sighed, though there was still a sneer in her voice. It made his shoulders sag and he waited for her to leave, staring at the weeds by his ankles without really seeing them – feeling like he was falling out of his own body.

"Why do you always listen to that?" Asuka asked, drawing his eyes up, but she wasn't looking at him, glued instead to his SDAT. She was sitting down now too. He didn't remember when she had done so or how long they'd been there. Some of the light in the sky had faded.

Shinji shrugged with a half-grimace, heat burning against his lungs. He considered her expression for a moment, trying to figure out what she could be thinking. She wouldn't meet his eyes though.

"My dad gave it to me when he..." Shinji looked to the grass between his legs, a hand snapping some of the blades free. "When he sent me away..."

Asuka's lips pursed. "Do you hate 'im?"

Shinji shrugged again and they were soon consumed by the drone of the cicada bugs, and he almost wanted her to leave. He didn't deserve her company anyway and he couldn't blame her if she left. Maybe one day he'd learn how to be... normal. But... if she did decide to stay... he wouldn't hate her for it, even if she did say mean things.

Asuka stood then. "Shinjiii!" she whined, grabbing his wrists. "Come on, I wanna' climb the olive tree!" she pulled him to his feet, tugging him along insistently. He stumbled, one arm still held in her hand as they trudged through the wild pink soapworts.

Despite himself, for just a moment, a smile poked at his lips.

* * *

 _Sum et, scio ut, ergo fui_ : For I am, and I know, so I will.


	5. Act I - Chapter 5: Strength

**Chapter 5: Strength**

* * *

Shinji was a creature of habit, perhaps akin to the Mongoose – forging through the world by his lonesome, hunting and burrowing. He had his routine and he stuck by it when he could. Asuka, on the other hand, was a wild and uncontrollable storm, thundering and raining where she pleased no matter how much it upset the balance of things.

Despite that, there was still a pattern: a familiarity in the garden and the olive tree. Slowly, new threads would be introduced to the pattern, but for the most part it remained the same.

Today was different. He was entirely beyond any form of routine he'd come to know and couldn't help but be reminded of those short months ago at Gehirn.

* * *

Shinji was being taken through what he had come to name the Glass Labyrinth, still not quite tall enough to see what hid behind those shimmering panes. Lützow, the master of this strange realm, was leading the way. By now, Shinji had a good idea of how long it took them to reach the vault the doctor normally tested him in, and the way they took now was tantalizingly fresh. Teacher _had_ mentioned something about new tests. Mutual cooperation?

At last Lützow opened the door to yet another glass vault, revealing a red mane he knew well.

"Asuka?" he asked, moving to the open chair beside her. The girl greeted him with little more than a sniff and an upturned nose. Ah. He'd seen this Asuka before, and knew that this was not going to be a pleasant visit to Gehirn. Ignorant of his trepidation, Lützow gave them each a pencil and paper with zigzagging lines.

"Today, you are each going to solve several mazes. Do not lift your pencil from the paper once you start, backtracking is not allowed and if you run into a dead end, you will have to redo the maze. You have fifteen seconds to complete the first maze."

Signaling the start with two taps of his pencil on his clipboard, they began. The minutes ticked by and new sleeves of paper appeared in front of them, the mazes getting harder and harder as they went. They were evenly matched for a while, until Shinji's confidence dwindled as Asuka finished the last two before him. She stuck her tongue out and smiled, while he resisted the urge to reach over with his pencil and scribble that stupid grin off her face.

As Asuka completed the last one exactly on time, yet again, Shinji howled in frustration – throwing his pencil down and crossing his arms as he sank in his seat. Asuka just snickered and kicked her legs.

Lützow hummed as his white-blue eyes scanned over them, pencil thumping against his lips. He made several marks on his clipboard, washing the worry from his expression as he fetched two more sleeves of paper. "Alright, I have one last game for you two – sit up now, Shinji. This one, however, will require you to work together to finish."

Pushing himself back up, but refusing to sit straight despite the warning look Teacher gave him, Shinji waited for the next test he was sure to lose. Their mazes were taken away and new sheets slipped in front of them, except each one cut the maze down the middle.

Lützow elaborated. "I have given you each one half of a larger maze. There is a starting point on your respective papers. To finish the maze, you will have to cross onto each other's paper. However–" he paused, gaze lingering on Asuka for a moment, "in order to win, both of you must finish within the ten second marker."

Shinji and Asuka shared a glance, ire flickering through her eyes. He felt his face tighten and sat a little straighter as they touched their papers together to make the mazes line up. It was huge and he gave up on trying to find a path to Asuka's side as it turned into a blur of lines. He hovered his pencil over the starting point nonetheless, poised to mark the quickest route.

"Begin."

No sooner had Shinji started scrawling than Asuka's arm knocked into his, both snapping his led and causing her pencil to lift.

"No, stupid!"

"Miss Soryu," Lützow said in a tone Shinji was all too familiar with. She made a face but didn't call him anymore names, settling for pinching his hand instead.

"Plan where you're going _first,_ " she whispered.

Lützow began the test again and Shinji did what Asuka said, pausing as his eyes tracked the correct path. As he started his pencil's perilous journey, a low hiss next to him that might've been a curse sounded as Asuka ran into a dead end.

The third time they found the correct path, but bumped one another's arms as they crossed sides. There just wasn't enough room on the maze!

Before the fourth try, Asuka gave him a look that promised retribution later if he failed, and he returned as stern a look as a seven-and-a-half year old could hope to muster. When they started, he ticked off the seconds in his head, each of them careful to avoid the other's path – bending their hands at odd angles to get by. They both smacked their pencils on the table as they finished, just a fraction of a second before they would have lost.

Lützow made them finish tests together at Gehirn from then on, which Asuka still managed to turn into a competition.

* * *

Today, as he had come to expect of the storm that was Asuka, he was yet again being swept off his feet to be carried somewhere new... and not entirely welcome. Teacher said it was time to start socializing him.

As now eight-year-old Shinji stood in the foyer of the Langley house, dressed in unfamiliar clothes as he prepared to leave for an unfamiliar place, his nerves danced like angry hornets in his stomach. The vaulted ceilings made the room feel open, its walls adorned with oil paintings and the windows framed by vermillion drapes. The floor was smooth and glossy white marble, giving way to the two sets of narrow stairs along each side of the grand corridor, all polished bronze wood that gave the upper balcony a warm glow in the early morning.

It wasn't the first time he'd been in the mansion, since he was welcomed in to play the piano with Ilka whenever she came to visit. On rarer occasions, he was allowed full range of the household with Asuka and her mother would give them homemade sweets, which the girl begrudgingly accepted. Asuka usually took most of his too, but he didn't mind, since she never managed to finish all of them and ended up giving him back what would have been his share anyway.

For most of his stay on the estate, the Langley's had been shadowy figures residing in their grand castle of a house high on the hill, save for the occasional glimpse through a window, or a mention by one of the extra gardeners Gepard hired on. But last October, Asuka had actually taken him into the house to watch the Thanksgiving parades in Berlin on TV, while her mom cooked in the kitchen. Swollen and salted meats, dripping with oils and juices. After seeing the Harvest Queen crowned, the woman brought them into the nearby village, Bernau, so all of the kids could have a lantern parade together.

She and Asuka didn't smile, barely talked, and in general seemed to agree that neither wanted the other to be there, but also that there was nothing they could do about it. Apparently, her father was almost always away at one of the military bases in Hamburg. Without him there, Asuka took to disobeying her whenever she got the chance.

That night, she told him she didn't care if he never came back.

"Dummy! Your tie is loose!" Asuka pinched her fingers at his collar and yanked said tie, nearly choking him. Then she grabbed his jacket and jerked the loose ends together. Taking a step back to inspect a haggard Shinji as he combed a hand through his short hair, she nodded and grabbed her school bag.

"Have a good day you two," a voice called from the second floor. Shinji spun to glance Asuka's mother at the top of the steps, a white shawl thrown over her dark azure turtleneck shirt, hanging just a little below her equally dark pants. Her hazelnut hair was caught up in a loose bun and while her expression seemed kind, her eyes were far away.

Asuka didn't answer, grabbing his arm to tug him along while sending a baleful glare up the stairs. Shinji followed, exiting the grand white marble foyer and climbing into the black car with Asuka. He sat next to her, putting his navy blue bag on the floor alongside her red and black polka dot one. Her uniform was the same color as his, dark gray jacket with a white undershirt. Where he wore plaid shorts, she had a plaid skirt that went almost below her knees, black socks pulled up high. He didn't know what it was, but somehow she seemed... different. Maybe it was the new, long red ribbons holding her pigtails up.

"You look pretty," he said.

Asuka nodded, touching the crimson bands. "I know."

As they left the Langley estate through a long black gate, Shinji sat straight in the leather seats, fidgeting and wringing his hands in his lap. When he noticed Asuka throwing annoyed glances at him, he stilled – at least for a few minutes. The trip out of the rolling countryside didn't take long, the sunny morning turning a little muggier as they reached the city. The constant heat and rains in Berlin, caused by something Teacher called Second Impact, had become the norm on the Langley Estate. To think that there had ever been anything like fall or winter was baffling and if not for the pictures – he would have thought Teacher was making it up.

Now he was embarking on a journey to the _Evangelisches Gymnasium zum Grauen Kloster_ , a prestigious school in Berlin, or so Teacher said. It looked like the Langley house: all rustic red brick guarded by thin trees and caste iron statues, stained green from enduring the tortures of the weather. The main building looked like a cathedral, its rooftops lined with spires decorated in swirling gilded patterns.

The car squealed to a halt by the open courtyard on the left of the cathedral and Shinji shambled out after Asuka. For a moment, they just stood there – taking it all in, or at least _he_ was. Asuka had been attending regular school for a couple of years now, but he had never seen so many other kids in one place. Teacher had prepared him for the fact that almost none would look like him, though a part of him had already come to understand that ever since he started learning the world map.

The trees in the courtyard were skinny compared to the ones in his garden and all around him were old stone and brick structures. The shining glass and rigid metals of the newer buildings were mixed in with them, making the place feel like some disjointed bridge in time.

"Hurry _up_ , Shinji!"

He jumped at the call, finding Asuka already way across the courtyard. Running to catch up, he followed her up a small flight of steps and into a long building three stories high. The main hall was filled with a thunder of raucous voices, each seemingly clamoring for his ear. A few people, torn from their animated groups, caught sight of him and had to double take.

Staggering as someone bumped into him, Shinji realized he'd lost Asuka.

"Watch where you're going, stupid!" A chubby boy snarled, stopping as he snared a good look at Shinji, who gulped, stuttering an apology. The other kid and his friends, who were staring at him now, didn't seem to notice his feeble attempts at communication.

"He's got funny eyes," one of them said and all at once there were too many faces with wide eyes.

"Why is his nose shaped so goofy?"

"Is he from another planet?"

Shinji backed up, a pudgy hand pushing him, lockers rattling as he smacked into them. "He isn't an alien, idiot. Just some _schlitzauge_ ," the boy said, spitting it like a curse. "My dad says they're all born on boats now since their island sank."

"Hey!" every head turned to look as the small crowd parted, revealing a furious Asuka Langley Soryu. "Get away from him!"

The not-so-skinny boy who had pushed him offered a crooked grin, and took a few steps forward. "Why? What's a dumb girl like you gonna' do?"

He was answered with a shoe to his crotch – squealing like a little pig as he collapsed to his knees, tears falling over his red face. Since he was already leaning forward, Asuka planted a foot on his head and pushed his cheek to the floor.

"If you ever talk to him again – I'll break your stupid face!"

* * *

Headmistress Bayern's eyebrow twitched, but her regal and commanding aura didn't falter in the slightest. Shinji looked to the floor again, unable to make himself small enough in the oversized chair across from her oak desk. Her dark grey eyes slid gradually to Asuka, who was slouched back in her seat, arms crossed as an annoyed frown pouted her lips. Bayern's nails clacked loudly upon the worn tabletop.

At last, the drumming was replaced by the ringing of a phone just inches away. She plucked it from the receiver and brought it to an ear, eyes not moving from them for a moment. "Headmistress Bayern speaking," she said, pausing for the other end, her tone changing to something a little conversational. "Yes, Mr Langley... well of course not, but it isn't her first incident here at this establishment and we do not tolerate this sort of behavior... I understand, but... as long as it does not continue to be an issue... very well, you've made your point, but I do have to keep up appearances you know... of course, good day."

The phone was returned to its berth with a little more force than necessary, though Bayern appeared just as collected as she had before. "I'll leave you with a warning this time, young lady," the woman said, briefly pinning Shinji under those sharp eyes. "Please keep your friend out of trouble from now on."

"I'm sorry," he said.

The Headmistress only hummed, retrieving a pen to start scrawling marks on papers he was too low to see. "You may go," she said without looking up. They were ushered out of the door by another teacher and led back to class. Asuka was walking a few steps ahead of him and he used her heels to navigate while maintaining his downward gaze.

"What are you sorry for anyway?" she hissed.

"Huh?" he looked up to find her peevish eyes on him.

She slowed down a little to let him catch up to her, but only to punch him in the arm. "If someone's attacking you, you can't just stand there!"

"Sorry."

"Ugh, just be quiet!" she growled, walking several paces ahead of him again. The teacher escorting them cast a glare over his shoulder and they descended into quiet. As they passed what must have been a nurses office, Shinji spotted the gelatinous boy from earlier sitting sullenly outside by the door, several yellow bruises coloring his red cheeks. When he looked up and caught sight of Asuka, the boy moved faster than Shinji would have thought possible for a person his size. His eyes bulged and he pressed himself back against the wall, hands grasping the chair desperately.

Asuka pinned him with scathing eyes and then stomped a foot towards him. The boy yelped and fell out of his chair, cowering against the nurse's door. Asuka smirked as they continued on.

Shinji wasn't so sure he wanted to go to school anymore.

* * *

Just about every morning he and Asuka would get up early and attend the _Grauen Kloster_ , and every day Shinji ached for something he vaguely remembered as comforting.

Not only were teachings at the _Grauen Kloster_ at the forefront of his priorities, but lessons at the Langley estate continued, albeit with far less frequency. Since he now attended school regularly and had to go see Lützow every other day, time had to be set aside for homework and study. He rarely had an opportunity to sit among the fire lilies or gaze at the stars. Asuka he saw in class, but there was no play to be had there. Except for recess, which was a strained affair.

When outside, they were minded by a pair of nuns from the school chapel, Sister Cécile and Sister Maria. The former was the senior of the two and a severe woman, who rarely showed more than an exasperated concern beyond her firm demeanor. They stood by the tall oak nearest the fences, dressed in white veils and their black cloaks, watching the children play.

The girls, who intermingled with the boys while in the _Kloster's_ halls, segregated and formed patches of varying hairstyles and hand clapping games, while the boys spent half of it deciding on soccer teams, leaving them little time to actually play. Though the games usually melted down into a fierce reenactment of the Battle of Halbe, anyway. Until yet another argument broke out over who should have to play the Russians.

While all this went on, Asuka read from their textbooks, and bored Shinji to tears. His friend was all smiles and pleasantries in class, but out here, might as well have been carved from ice. He'd tried to play with her a few times, but that had basically driven her back to the classroom after a fit of yelling between them. Since then, Shinji might manage, with great reluctance, to get put on a soccer team, and always with the Bavarian kids. They were taunted by the protestants for having come from Catholic families, but at least none of the others tried to chase them off.

One group went out of their way to trip or shoulder check him when they played, while some chanted _Japse, Japse!_ from the sidelines. What Asuka said to him on their first day wouldn't leave his mind, and grew louder with every slur. Turned hot under his skin. So the next recess, he tackled one of the sandy-haired boys back. They scraped and pulled in the dirt like a pair of tangled snakes, forcing Sister Maria to come over and break them up.

The only boys willing to play with him after that were those from the Czech and Austrian classes, of which there were only a handful. One of the boys, Marcel, and his sister were particularly interested in him, but only spoke Croatian. More out of stubbornness than because they couldn't speak German, and Shinji found the Czech's accented dialect too grating to try and talk much. So he wandered off on his own, occasionally convincing Asuka to poke at ant hills with him.

Apparently, he was still doing something wrong since at some point, as a rule, Sister Cécile started sending Shinji over with the girls every recess. They didn't seem to mind him all that much, and even asked him about Japan. There weren't many questions he could answer, much to his frustration. More often than not he was simply made to guard the slide from any boys that strayed over, since the girls sat towards the bottom and the boys thought it was funny to ride down and crash into their circles.

Asuka watched him from the benches whenever he was with them, fixated, almost threatening. He tried to call her over a few times, but was ignored with a sweep a hair. So he talked to some of the other girls instead, and that was when Asuka started joining their circles, though rarely laid an eye on him after that.

His friend was more fun outside of school and still came by the garden to see him, inviting herself in as she had always done. Teacher no longer tried to fight it. When away from the others she pondered the habits of rats, complained about how annoying all the boys were, babbled about the other girls at school, and generally made it impossible for him to get anything done. Asuka also made a habit of finishing her homework before him, anyway. He never really cared to try and outpace her in that area.

Day by day the gardens called to him, but seemed more like a passing dream. Teacher said he had big responsibilities and that he had to live up to them for his father. He was some sort of pilot like Asuka now. He still didn't understand why she'd been so mad about it, but the girl hadn't mentioned it again. Spending any time with her often turned into a tirade about how he should be paying more attention in class.

Music immediately became one of his favorite sessions at school, if nothing else than because there was practically no homework to be done – except for today. Eight-year-old Shinji lugged a big black case through the garden to his white and bamboo-tan house. As he staggered through the door, Teacher quirked an eyebrow and lowered the open book in his hand, though his expression remained ever stoic. Panting, Shinji set the case down before facing Teacher, pressing his arms to his sides and bowing. "Uh, Herr Hannover wants me to practice at home..."

He wasn't sure why, since students were rarely allowed to take instruments with them and only the older kids at that. Hannover had, at the very least, seemed pleased with his ability to play, but all that had done was make more work for him.

The man glanced at the cello case, then back to his charge before deciding on more tea and returning to his book. "So long as it does not interfere with your other studies."

"Thank you," Shinji said, standing straight and retreating to his room with the cello. Clicking the black case open, he checked the polished wood for blemishes and tested the strings for any signs of stress. The cello wasn't Shinji's first choice to play, but after experimenting in Hannover's class as they'd all been made to do, the man was a little more pleased with his handling of the cello and insisted he make it his own.

Setting the case down on the floor, he dragged a chair out from the corner and readied the instrument. The laminated maple wood glowed under the fading light of afternoon creeping in through his window. Careful not to let it fall, he situated himself upright in the chair and adjusted the cello's endpin for his small stature. Reaching back down to the case, he found the bow. It was made from something called brazilwood, horsehair pinched taut down its length. Shifting a few more times to get comfortable, he set his left fingers up on the neck – not looking forward to the red, numb indents he would have soon after.

The strings screeched as he drew the bow across. Huffing through his nose, he adjusted the pegs like Hannover showed him. It took a half-hour, but eventually he was able to start playing the right notes and it wasn't long before his arms grew tired and his shoulder blades ached.

Later, as he and Teacher gathered for dinner, Shinji was pouring the sake when his caretaker granted him prolonged eye contact and bowed his head slightly. "Your playing was acceptable, Shinji."

He blinked, staring wide eyed at his Teacher. The man rarely praised him for anything, let alone something so unimportant as music lessons.

Then Teacher sighed. "The sake, Shinji."

He looked down and yelped as the liquid spilled over the table. Shinji stuttered an apology while cleaning up, but Teacher seemed far less perturbed as he did so. Maybe practicing with the cello wasn't such a bad thing after all.

* * *

The weeks and months passed in a blur. School days were long and full of boring readings about wars and people that wore funny helmets thousands of years ago. If asked, he could name all the places Alexander had fought over, but couldn't have said what made him all that great. So what if he conquered lots of stuff? Plenty of other people had done that too. What was so great about that?

"That's not the point," Asuka said, having taken him on as something of an idol. "He was remembered for thousands of years!"

 _But he died and everything he built fell apart_. Shinji added, though only in his head.

Just like with Alexander, neither could he reason what made Pyrrhus or Hannibal Barca so celebrated in these long, brain-melting history lessons. With all the homework they were given, he didn't have much time to study for the actual tests anyway. On nights that he _would_ have the time, Asuka just leaned over his shoulder to badger him until he went to bed and Teacher shooed her out the door. Sometimes Asuka sprawled on the floor and whined that she was hungry, doing this day after day until finally demanding that he prepare food for her.

From then on, Shinji took the hint for what it was, and cooked with the limited ingredients that were kept stocked. Teacher prepared dishes that invariably involved fish or something fried. Asuka would wolf everything down while complaining about how weird the Japanese must be. Shinji wouldn't know, and found on most occasions he preferred onion cake or pot roast anyway.

Teacher didn't approve of the girl's blatant disregard for Japanese custom, but there was little he could do considering her father was already allowing them to stay on his estate, and she knew it too. Shinji hadn't realized until recently how important her father was, or rather, he understood lots of people knew him and he had a big house. That and the fact that Asuka had beaten up another boy and gotten off with little more than a warning from the Headmistress.

Shinji wasn't sure if any of the teachers there actually liked him, but they at least acknowledged him with a nod and a smile. If he failed to return as much, they always insisted. Their greetings felt condescending, but they treated the other kids that way too. Well, most of them. Asuka was one of the students they always doted on. Shinji couldn't help but be a little jealous of her for it. She lived in a huge garden with a nice dad and a mom that made her sweets and cakes. No one called her names at school or gave her dirty looks and she had lots of friends. She could practically get away with _murder_ if she wanted.

He couldn't get away with anything.

Shinji was arriving home in the afternoon, as usual – but what was not usual was Asuka. As he passed down the brick path around her austere house, he saw her standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the front door, staring at the stained glass and dark amber wood.

"Hey, Asuka."

Her shoulders jumped and she turned, far-off expression falling away in favor of the more alive and agitated one he was used to. " _What_?"

He peered past her, trying to figure out what she had found so interesting on the door, asking, "Are you going somewhere?" why else would she be waiting out front?

"Your house, _dummy_ – why'd you get home so late?" Asuka asked, pushing him with one hand as she walked up next to him, just because she could.

"I always get here like this," he said, staying balanced with practiced ease.

Recycled air cooled his brow as they entered his small house. He and Asuka greeted Teacher, who offered little more than a tilt of an eyebrow as they passed. Closing the door to his room, Shinji set his backpack down by his desk and started to make himself comfortable. When he sat down and Asuka didn't leave, a twinge of annoyance struck him. "I have lots of homework to do, you know."

"You always do," she sighed, collapsing on his bed. "How's it take you so long to finish?"

His shoulders tensed. "It just... _does_."

She only grunted, staring up at the ceiling. Pressure sat over his ribcage when she stayed quiet, the weight of it pressing uncomfortably. All the same he was surprised she was even here. Not because her being in his room was weird – she came in whenever she wanted – but she'd been appearing less and less lately. She looked sullen at school, didn't talk to anyone beyond plastered smiles and expected manners. He'd seen her handful of _real_ smiles, and knew when she was faking.

Shinji turned back to his homework, taking out the SDAT that rarely left his person and poking the buds in his ears. He risked another glance at Asuka, her back facing him.

It wasn't fair. What made her the "Pride and Joy of Germany" as all of their teachers said? It started as a bit of a joke – look at little Asuka, such a good student, so wonderful of her to be so kind to that delinquent eastern boy. Then she began to blaze through the mock tests – scoring even higher on the actual papers, imbuing their praise with truth. "Look at little Asuka," they would say, "she has such potential. She's sure to do great things one day!"

She basked in it too, and for a while it was like he didn't exist. Like he faded away. Sometimes, on the way back to the estate, she'd ask him lots of questions she knew he didn't have the answers to, gloating that knowledge over him. He wanted to shove her and tell her to go away.

The hours dragged by and Shinji barely made a dent in studies. He wished Asuka was awake – and not acting stranger than usual, maybe then she would pester him about his homework and help him solve some of the problems. Well, she never really helped him so much as she forced him to redo the work every time he got an answer wrong, _without_ telling him how to solve it. At the thought, he checked the clock sitting at his desk: a circular black frame with a mouse for the small hand and a cat for the big one.

"It's really dark," he said, twisting to where she was lying in bed, "won't your mom worry?"

The girl didn't even stir, her back rising and falling gently. Should he wake her? Maybe not, she had been especially moody today and the day before. He stood, edging up to his bed where he could see her face a little, free of all the usual expressions she made.

After a few quiet moments, he brushed his teeth and flossed, still finding Asuka fast asleep when he returned. Hesitation plucking at him for another drawn out second, he fished out an extra pillow and blanket from his closet before turning off the light, and resigning himself to sleeping on the floor.

* * *

 _The winds were calm and cool, whisking away the sting of the sun from his skin. Someone spoke to him, but he was too busy trying to catch the glow bug. He was so close. It was sitting on a leaf, completely unaware of his presence. His hands reached out, ready to entrap it–_

Something soft yet deliberate pushed into his cheek. The shadowed world of his dreams faded and he felt himself roll over. The thing poked him in the back and he swiped at it with a grumble, bundling up in the sheets and rolling against the wall.

There was a jab of pain in his left eye and he howled, the world opening in a blur as his head snapped back – cracking into the wall.

"OW!" Shinji scrambled up, struggling as he tore out of the tangle of sheets and braced himself in the corner. His vision was spinning and the back of his head – which he grabbed in his hands to make the throbbing stop – stung as if hit with a boulder. At the other end of his bed, closest to the door, Asuka was rolling with laughter.

"It's not funny!" he shouted. This didn't discourage Asuka's mirth in the slightest. Shinji ended up sulking in the corner, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes as her laughter died down to gasps for air and brief giggles.

"Why'd you wake me up, anyway?" he asked. For that matter, when had he gotten into bed? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on the floor.

She sat up, crossing her legs. "You sleep too long and it's not rainy out today," she said. Ah, that explained it. If it was sunny out, that meant play in the gardens. Now that he thought of it, today was Sunday – which meant no school. Asuka pushed off his bed, still dressed in her uniform, though the jacket had been discarded and the shirt untucked from her skirt.

Shinji yawned, glancing down at his white T and blue shorts. He should bathe – Teacher said lapses in hygiene were unacceptable. But Asuka was already on her way out of his room and he didn't want to be left behind. He scrambled out of bed, almost forgetting to close his door.

Teacher was at his post in the living room by the table. He seemed to disapprove, but that was normal, and didn't say a word as Shinji followed Asuka out the door.

It was sweltering the moment they stepped outside, a blast of scorching heat rolling over him and drawing sweat. Heedless, Asuka led the way into the gardens and the shade of the trees. Yet, even under their tall branches, the humidity was staggering, making every breath a labor. Meanwhile, he strategized how he would go about avoiding any wrestling matches with Asuka for the day.

They wound their way to the higher part of the garden where the rose bushes were, stone pathways and marble pillars breaking between them. Under the glare of the sun the white buds became vibrant orbs too blinding to look at, while the reds turned a blazing crimson.

The single Amaranthus, as Shinji had come to know it, stood proud with its soft purple spires hanging amidst their crucible of thorns. In the middle of the rose garden was the fountain he'd found Asuka at once: an open square pool where the teal water splashed down from huge bowls held high on the wings of robed angels. Asuka sat down on the edge to dip her legs in.

Practically falling down onto his stomach, Shinji dunked his arms in as well, letting his fingers revel in the cool sensation before splashing some over his head. He watched Asuka's legs make circular patterns in the water, his thoughts slipping into the bubbling of the fountain and the humming wails of cicada bugs. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, expression dull as she stared up at her house beyond the trees.

"So, we're secret pilots, right?" Shinji asked.

"Uh-huh."

He half-grimaced. "Have they told you what we have to pilot?"

"No," she said with a shrug, "my papa says they're still building it."

Shinji made a thoughtful noise, easing onto his back and folding his hands behind his head. The sky was bright and burning, the piercing yet distant cry of a hawk reaching them. Asuka wiggled her toes.

"Shinji?"

"Hm?" he grunted, her tone snagging his attention. He saw her head dip to one side, examining her feet like they were the most new and interesting things in the world.

"I don't really want to go home today."

His head quirked. "Why?"

She didn't answer, jerking her head to move hair from her face and sliding some of it behind an ear.

"Asuka?" a woman entered the rose garden from another path, yellow and white sundress swaying about her like flowing mists, both a floppy wide-rimmed summer hat and sun glasses shielding her from the bright morning rays. Shinji had met Asuka's mom plenty of times now and she'd been nothing but kind to him, if not a little dismissive. But all adults were like that.

"There you are," she sighed, "your father has been worried about you." phone in one hand, she started tapping the screen.

"I don't care," Asuka said.

The woman didn't respond, either not hearing the girl or not listening. After making a few final taps, she held out her free hand and turned half way. "Come now, say goodbye to Shinji."

"Why should I?" Asuka snarled, making Shinji wish he could shrink and disappear. He wanted to tell her this seemed like a bad idea, but his friend sounded on the border of a temper tantrum, and he definitely didn't want to be around for that.

Her mom touched the top of her sun glasses, lowering them down her nose to reveal a pair of orange-brown eyes that made him feel smaller than an ant. "Because I said so, young lady. Your father will be very upset if I have to tell him you gave me trouble. Is that what you want?"

Asuka's expression hardened, defeat and resentment passing through her eyes all at once. The girl turned to pull him into a one-armed hug, releasing him just as abruptly before running up to her mom. She started to walk past the woman on their way to the mansion, ignoring the hand she offered.

"Bye, Asuka!" he called, trying to smile when she sent him a fleeting glance back.

* * *

"This is unacceptable," Teacher said, setting down the paper with his collection of excellent grades. Well, all except the awful red pair of sixes. _Insufficient_.

Shinji winced, head dipping further. "I'm sorry."

Teacher's stern expression seemed pronounced somehow, touched with disappointment as he held him under dark eyes for a long minute. They sat opposite one another at the living room table, Shinji's hands balled in his lap.

"I had hoped spending more time with the Soryu girl might teach you some discipline towards your studies...but it seems I was mistaken," Teacher went on, and Shinji resisted the urge to say 'I'm sorry' again. "Your afternoon recess will be suspended until your scores improve."

Shinji's head shot up, mouth opening halfway as a protest fought to leave his lips, only for them close in the same moment. He looked to the floor again. "Yes, Teacher."

"You may study until bed time," Teacher said, dismissing him.

Shinji stomped into his room, where Asuka was lounging on his bed reading some book. His exasperation faded some.

"What's that?" he asked, sitting down by his low table.

"Just a bunch of made up stories. There's only one that I really like." she closed it and sat up – expression brightening. He'd only gotten home from school half an hour ago and since she was dressed in a T and shorts, she'd probably been home a little longer than he. The perks of getting all ones and twos, instead of an ugly pair of sixes mixed in.

Asuka sat down at the table with him, using an elbow to prop her cheek up on a fist. "Wanna' play cards or somethin'?"

For a moment, Shinji considered it. The game they played, _Schnapsen_ , was one of the things he could really beat her at. Usually, if he was on a winning streak, they wouldn't stop playing until Asuka managed to beat him at least once. Remembering how long those games tended to last, he took in the stack of books before him and frowned. "Teacher said I can't play until I get better grades. I've been trying really hard, though..."

She shrugged. "Maybe you're not studying enough."

"But I am!" he wailed, crossing his arms on the table and resting his head atop them. "I can't always be as smart as you. It's not fair."

Seven-year-old Asuka was unimpressed. "Whining about it won't do anything."

Shinji just sighed. She _would_ say something like that. He was frustrated and tired and he hated all of this stupid work, so of course all she did was belittle him for it. Sometimes he didn't even know why he wanted her around. What was wrong with her anyway?

He turned his head away. "I'm so sick of this... I wanna' go home..."

"Quit being such a baby," she sneered, flicking his arm.

His brow scrunched. She _knew_ how much that bothered him. "Of course you can say that!" he snapped, "you still have a mom and dad!"

Asuka was on her feet in an instant, fists tight at her sides. "She's not my mom – she's my step-mom, idiot!" she shouted, seeming to wither in the same moment. "My real mom..." fury gripped her features just as quickly as it had left, anger from those ice blue eyes stinging him cold. "If you wanna' go home so bad, then go!" she cried, running from his room, the rocks outside clattering from her haste to reach the house on the hill.

He leaned back against his desk, trying to figure out what had just happened. Step-mom? Where was her real mom? For a second he saw something on Asuka's face he never wanted to see again. Had he just made her cry? No, that was impossible. Asuka never cried. Not when she cut up her legs or fell or if he was too rough when they were wrestling. Not even when Tank had gone away.

Shinji let out a growl that turned into a whimper, throwing himself to the floor. When it started to hurt his eyes staring at the light bulb on the ceiling, his view sidled to his bed, finding the book Asuka had been reading. Grimacing, he crawled over and picked it up, pulling on the bookmark tassel. _Prometheus?_ He wondered, looking to where the girl had stormed out.

Maybe he could fix this. It would be a good excuse to find her and apologize. If he kept this up, Asuka would leave him for good. Just the thought of it made his chest swell like a balloon ready to burst. In the meantime, he waited and tried to do something with the pile of books at his desk.

* * *

Later that night, when he was sure Teacher would be asleep, Shinji crept out of his room. He was quiet as a ghost, sliding the front door open and closed without a sound. It wasn't the first time he'd ever snuck out at night, although on both occasions prior it had been in Asuka's company.

The crickets chirped while a family of frogs croaked in shrill voices, the moonlight guiding him through the dark forest. He reached the back porch of the mansion and suddenly felt very stupid, since he hadn't actually planned out what he was going to do beyond this point. How was he supposed to sneak inside and give Asuka her book? It was way past even Teacher's bed time and everyone else was likely asleep too. He couldn't imagine sneaking in to wake her up would be well received by Herr Langley. Shinji peered up at the house for a time, remembering which room was Asuka's, up by the top left window.

Maybe if he could hit it with a pebble or two, she'd wake up, come down and he could give her the book while apologizing at the same time, and then everything would be alright. It was the perfect plan. He crouched, searching the ground for a suitable rock. It had to be a small one, or else he might break the window and then he would _really_ be in trouble.

His fingers roughed up against a pebble and as he seized it, his brow furrowed. What was he doing here? This wasn't going to work. There would be harsh consequences if Teacher ever discovered he had snuck out. Besides... it wasn't like Asuka would want to forgive him. Why should he always have to say he was sorry anyway? Wasn't she the one who said he apologized too much? How was he supposed to know about...

Sighing as he tossed the pebble back to the ground, he froze when he noticed a girl sitting on the steps to the back door, the ethereal light of the moon giving her red hair something of a glow. She had her legs drawn up to her chest, chin resting on her knees.

Shinji opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat, so for a while he just stood there, trying to think of what to say. When Asuka didn't yell at him or give him a dirty look, he decided it was safe to walk over and sit down on the steps too. She didn't react and Shinji desperately tried to think of how to fix things now that he was here, gazing up at a night sky streaked with wispy clouds. _The book! That's right..._

"You, uh, left this," he said, holding it out to her. Asuka took the book lethargically, not even giving it so much as a glance.

"I really miss her," she said, whisper of a voice tugging at his heart. He stared at the ground, listening to the cicadas chirp.

"What about your dad?" he asked, waiting for her to shout, but Asuka only folded tighter. He remembered being like that. How could it be the same? He didn't always understand what she said, since she never really talked about that stuff with him. Always asking questions and demanding answers, yet keeping to herself. Maybe her dad wasn't as nice as he used to think. Maybe her dad was like his.

"I... I don't... uh, my mom is... she's..." he stopped, a lump of burning coal rising in his throat. His shoulders sagged and he wanted nothing more than to dash back home and curl up under the sheets with his SDAT. A cool breeze swept through the trees, kissing his warm cheeks and reminding him of the dream with the woman in shadow. Chimes sang further off in the garden.

"A-Asuka?"

The girl didn't say anything, the seconds stretching into minutes. It felt like those other dreams he had: floating in a vast and endless ocean, so terribly frightened of the creeping dark.

He licked his lips. "My... the, the letter my dad sent... I have to, stay for another five years or, or something so..."

"Shut up," she snapped, standing and stunning him with the scathing look that passed over her face. As he opened his mouth, she seemed to decide something, kicking him hard in the side. Shinji gasped and grabbed at his stomach, eyes bristling as he watched her storm into the house.

She didn't look back.

* * *

 _"When I was a child,_  
 _And did not know where from or to,_  
 _I turned my seeking eye toward_  
 _The sun, as if beyond there was_  
 _An ear to hear my complaint,_  
 _A heart like mine,_  
 _To have mercy with the embattled one."_  
\- Prometheus, Goethe

* * *

Schlitzauge: Slanteye.

Japse: Derogatory term for Japanese.


	6. Act I - Chapter 6: Guardian

**Chapter 6: Guardian**

* * *

Father Luitpold's vestments were different today. The normally pearly galloons that hung over his robes were now a deep shade of sleek, sapphire blue. At their ends was a golden cross, the insides of which were stitched with swirling white patterns.

The parents of the congregation had made it for him, since only last week he'd been ordained as a Minister. Shinji couldn't say what any of that meant or why, since the Wednesday worship they held every week at the _Grauen Kloster_ was no different than before. Father Luitpold read from the gospels, like he always did, while the rest of the children sat and listened – nodding sagely whenever he looked up to see he still had their attention. Then they took bits of bread and drank that rotten grape juice that made his head feel fuzzy, before ending worship with a prayer in their seats.

As strange as they tasted, Shinji would much rather eat olives from their tree in the garden. He let out a deep breath through his nose, counting each second of silence that ticked by. Hushed voices slithered over the seats from the back of the hall, a few coughs here and there.

"Do you believe in God, Asuka?" he whispered, peaking an eye open to see if she had heard him. Father Luitpold said it was important to pray, especially when their minds were troubled. God would always be there to listen. Shinji didn't understand how. Teacher never prayed to God, or to anyone now that he thought of it.

"I guess so," Asuka said, shrugging. "Do you?"

Shinji glanced at the other kids, absorbed in their worship. "I don't know."

Did his father believe in God? That didn't seem right, since Teacher said most people in Japan were Buddhist. Sometimes he thought of sending his prayers there, but he didn't know any of the mantras, and there wasn't a shrine for him to kneel at either.

Asuka shifted. "Margaret always makes me pray before bed at night. It's stupid."

"What do you pray for?"

For a second, she paused. "It doesn't matter. Making wishes is for little kids."

Shinji didn't jibe at the fact that she was only eight. There were times to tease Asuka, if only because of how angry she would get, and then there were times to leave well enough alone. As Luitpold called an end to the Wednesday service, they filed out with the others, shouldering their backpacks as they embarked for the day's classes.

He was prepared for a short, but complaint filled trip all the way to their class room, before they would sit down and Asuka would take to jabbing him with her pencil the rest of the day. Instead, she knit her hands behind her back, walking backwards to face him. "What do _you_ pray to God for?"

"Nothing, really. I just repeat what Luitpold says." he tugged her by the elbow, just before she would have smacked right into a pole.

She spun, both freeing from his grip and fixing him with a critical eye. "So you don't pray for anything?"

"No. What should I pray for?"

"Idiot, how should I know?" they passed by the inner courtyard, just outside the door where their teacher was waiting for her students to amble in. Asuka's lips perked and she pushed a finger against his forehead. "Maybe you should ask God for a brain!"

He swiped at her hand. "Shut up."

She twirled away, making her skirt flutter. "Sorry, I don't listen to dumb people."

"Fine," Shinji stopped, huffing. "Then I'll pray for him to send you to the moon."

"Fine!" she said, stamping a foot as her spin came to an end, hands on her hips. "Then _I'll_ be the first woman on the moon!"

For the rest of the day her temperament was moody, until the final hour when he ended up with a led-marked hand – where she even managed to draw a little blood. Then she was better. He knew it wasn't just about his comment to send her far away to the moon. Even though they were on speaking terms again, she never mentioned her real mother, and seemed content to pretend the subject had never been broached.

Still, at times he couldn't help but wonder if he'd really been forgiven.

* * *

Last year, with the addition of English to the curriculum, Shinji had been paired off with Marcel as his learning partner. If only because no one else wanted to be stuck with him. It was also part of a dogged campaign carried out by their teacher Wilhelm to force the brother and sister to socialize instead of pairing off with each other by default.

Marcel only agreed if his sister Lucija was put with them. Even though it nearly defeated the purpose, Wilhelm begrudgingly accepted the compromise. He handed out worksheets and highlighted all the proper notes in their textbooks, and Shinji found that Marcel had an awful time reading in German, which was why he insisted on having his sister there to do it for him. His grades were fine, though he scored low in just about all of their social categories. His English scores soon became just as abysmal, which in turn affected _Shinji's_ grade.

So he finally asked him why he didn't just speak German so other people could help him, and the boy's shouted reply nearly knocked him off his feet. But he yelled in his native tongue and, red faced, combed a hand through his dark brown hair. Then tried again, quieter.

"My parents are just making us go here since we moved," he said in German, expression sour. "This isn't my country. I don't have to speak German if I don't want to."

The impulse to speak failed to reach Shinji's lips, and all he could manage was a blank stare. He hadn't forgotten his first few months in this country. How much he'd hated it before he met Asuka, even if he'd never seen it beyond the garden. He wasn't born here. Almost no one looked like him, and the only reason he'd been sent away was because no one wanted him in his own country. This was his home. At the thought, Marcel's words didn't sit right in his mind anymore. The moment of kinship was swept away by something warm and trembling.

He was tired of Teacher's dejected sighs and his best friend's snide taunts. He was tired of not being good enough.

Shinji lashed out and hit Marcel in the shoulder, hard. "Then you won't learn anything," he snarled. The regret was immediate. But he was too angry to stop. "And everyone will keep thinking you're stupid and no one will care about you!" it was probably the maddest he gotten at anyone aside from Asuka.

Marcel's eyes widened and he took a step back. After another terse pause, he shouldered his pack and left without a word. When Shinji told Asuka about it later and lamented his grade, she said, "Well, it's your own fault."

He fixed her with a nasty glare. "What if I was _your_ partner and left you to do all the work?"

"You wouldn't," she said, and Shinji realized he wouldn't abandon Marcel either.

He met the boy at his usual haunt by the west gate to the schoolyard. Lucija glared at him. "Sorry for hitting you," Shinji said. He really meant it too. If he could take it all back, he would. Marcel stood, hands balled. Shinji didn't flinch or try to stop him. It was only fair.

"Will you teach me?" Marcel bit out in German, sullen, and grimacing. drawing back his surprise, Shinji agreed. The rest of their partnership was an exercise in patience, and a brooding frustration for both. But they managed a passing 3 by the end of it, and rarely interacted much after that. At least now Marcel was talking with the Austrians, who shared his border and warmed up to him faster than Shinji ever might have.

The following fall, students were encouraged to participate in a school club or sport, with the subtle hint that it would again be counted towards a social grade. Asuka said he should get on a soccer team, since she watched him play during recess sometimes and said he was pretty good. Probably good enough to get into Wolfsburg one day. Maybe even Dortmund if he really tried.

"Not Bayern München? Marcel said they won the Supercup a few years ago, I think."

"Yeah, but now they're all just a bunch of snobs their rich parents bought in. Dortmund could beat them for the cup if they weren't such dirty players."

Shinji disagreed, if only because Asuka was so decidedly against them, and the subject turned into an argument every time soccer came up. In the end, Shinji joined the _Kloster's_ team for his grade level. All he had to do was run around and kick a ball, how hard could that be? Practice left his legs shaky on the return home, and games made him uneasy, especially when he was put in as goalie. It didn't help that the recess bullies from his first year made up a majority of the team, and basically ignored him if he was out on the field with them. Only a few teammates extended the courtesy of passing to him.

The coach delegated him to defense positions only, trading his offense spot with a blonde haired girl that always had a smile, but took on an intensity to her when out on the field.

* * *

The whistle screamed and the referee called an end to the game. Shinji's chest heaved, his head throbbing from the baking rays of the sun. Cheers echoed from the sidelines of the field, the rest of his yellow-clad teammates jogging to share in the blonde girl's victory with praise and smiles.

Along with the opposing team, he jogged over to his things on the side of the field, knees aching. To his left a woman combed a hand through her chestnut hair, holding out a bottle of water for her son, who gulped half of it down before gasping for air. His father took a knee so they were eye level, a big hand on his shoulder while he talked animatedly. Then he stood, ruffling the boy's hair before the trio made to leave.

Everywhere Shinji looked he saw much the same for every child, save for the blonde. She lingered by a group of girls, smile never faltering.

Gathering up his duffel bag, he quit the field and found the black Lexus that was always waiting to take him back to the Langley estate.

Five years. It had only been three since his father had given him his orders from Gehirn. He still didn't much understand what it was he was supposed to be doing, holding on to the reassurance that someday – he would. Teacher told him it was for the sake of mankind, but all he and Asuka had done was visit Lützow for cognitive puzzles. He didn't see how that was supposed to help him pilot... whatever he was piloting. Besides, if what they were doing was so important, why did it have to be a secret? If everyone knew what a big job he had to do, they might treat him nicer.

Arriving at the estate, the walk through the garden to his small house was longer than usual, the white-hot sun stinging at him through the trees. Once inside, he greeted Teacher and went to his room, where he found Asuka sitting on his bed in her uniform. Her tongue was pinched between her lips as she smashed the controller buttons, leaning with the twists and turns of the game.

It wasn't _his_ PlayStation, of course. Asuka had brought it over after she'd gotten it for Christmas last year. As Summer breaks went by, the girl had turned his room into a sort of home away from home. During those months, he found himself sharing his bed more often than not. They'd lay back to back, making jokes that traditionally began with "what if..." to see who could get the other to laugh out loud first. Other times they fought for mattress space, because some nights Asuka's feet got cold and she'd shove them up against his to steal warmth.

When he didn't feel like being kicked in his sleep, he set up a camping sack for himself on the floor. It was comfortable enough, and Asuka usually made a game of poking at him from the height of the bed regardless. Or they sat close and stayed up late playing video games. During Summer vacation, Asuka didn't have to worry about her step-mom coming to fetch her in place of her dad for school or anything. The adults just didn't seem to care one way or another so long as they weren't bothering them or causing trouble.

Shinji tossed his duffel bag in the corner, disappearing to change, and emerging clad in baggy plaid pajama pants and a gray shirt.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Ace Fighter Zero," she said, jerking back and leaning to the right as her fighter jet made a hard turn. "Last level."

The screen was alight with green indicators that flared red when missiles streaked by. Her own targeter struggled as she tried to gain locks on the enemy fighters, who seemed to be able to break the path of her tracking missiles all too easily.

Shinji settled atop his bed next to her, stomach down. "Hey... do you know what they're going to have us do tomorrow?"

"No. Lützow didn't say what the new training would be."

In big red letters the words _Missile Lock_ flashed over the video game HUD.

"Do you think we'll actually start learning to pilot now?"

"I don't know– NO!" her fighter exploded and she threw the controller, fingers combing through her hair. "You ruined my concentration!"

"Sorry."

She growled and fell back on the mattress. "No you're not," she sighed, tugging at the red ribbons holding up her hair. Shinji sank his face into the comforter, not even flinching when she whacked his thigh back-handed. It was sloppy and devoid of malice, the beatings themselves acting more like a means of communication. He still didn't understand the language.

"Did you win your game today?" she asked.

"Yeah. They made me a sweeper like always. The midfielders didn't let the other team have the ball much, though."

She sat up, feet searching for her shoes on the floor. "Why don't you have the coach put you back on offense?"

He shrugged. "I don't really wanna' be."

Asuka rolled her eyes. _This_ language he knew – _typical Shinji_ , was the translation. Although he had a feeling even if he asked, the coach would just say no since he'd done nothing to prove he could be more useful in a forward position. So there was no point.

Wiggling her shoes on, Asuka bounced off his bed and made for the door. "See ya'."

"Night 'Suka," he said mid-yawn, earning himself a glare before she disappeared.

The TV gave off a high-pitched whine and the PlayStation hummed. Standing, he shut them down, flicked off his light and rolled into bed – realizing Asuka had left behind some of her things as he came face to face with his nightstand.

She slept in his room, played games on his bed, and rode to and from school with him. Despite how close she always was, ever since that night on her back patio, at times it felt like she resided in the mansion's upper floor, peering at him from the window while he remained in the garden far below.

* * *

After enduring language lessons for the better part of the morning, Shinji set up shop at the northwest entrance to the school. He and Asuka usually shared lunch around this time, he just had to wait for her to get out of some advanced tutoring session on the other side of the campus.

So he people-watched, trying not to seem conspicuous, and spotted a familiar face through the hustle and bustle. Scharnhorst, as Shinji had come to know him, had managed to retain his rotund figure. The boy's eyes found his, giving him pause as he searched for the red haired devil. If the Japanese boy was about, that meant Asuka couldn't be far either. His gaze settled on Shinji again, body fidgeting with palpable nervousness. Seizing his resolve in a tightened pair of fists, he fast-walked down the hall, scurrying down the stairs as he passed Shinji.

Scharnhorst had been his first bully but not his last. After the boy had been thoroughly humiliated by Asuka, most kids in his year seemed to hold an aversion to him as rumors flitted about, catching as easily as wild fire. He was the strange foreign kid, afterall. Much easier to dislike than Asuka.

Once, a group of them had attempted to gang up on him. Well, they _had_ ganged up on him. He'd come home sporting a yellow and purple bruise under his right eye that perfectly framed the contour of the socket, while black and red splotches from busted blood vessels had colored his stomach. If not for Asuka arriving to pelt them with stones from the garden plots, it probably would've been a lot worse.

Leaning against the open door, movement drew his eyes up to a girl just a little shorter than he, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She went rigid as their eyes met and Shinji looked around, wondering if she was waiting for someone else.

"Um, hi, Shinji," she said, pulling his attention back. No detached or polite 'good afternoon', and she knew his name. She stood with her feet close, hand gripping her school bag tight and worry sitting on her brow. Something nagged at the back of his mind – something about the way she looked.

"Hi," he said, relatively sure he was dreaming as it clicked: this was one of the girls from his soccer team. A thick tension sat over his chest as the silence between them dragged. All the while his reeling brain scrambled – _what was her name again?_

"Er– Erika, right?" he blurted.

"Yeah!" she said, beaming. He smiled politely and was about to claw for more conversation when an arm quite suddenly hooked through his and he was being turned around by an alarmingly cheery Asuka.

"There you are! Come on, let's eat!" she said, pulling him along.

"Oh, okay, uh – sorry, bye!" he called, waving and completely missing Erika's crestfallen look.

* * *

That afternoon, Shinji and Asuka followed Teacher into the Gehirn building. Instead of the Glass Labyrinth, they were led down concrete ramps that made a rigid spiral several floors below. A chilled air shivered through the halls, stemming from a wide corridor lined with huge metal doors. Teacher stopped at one of them, tapping at a keypad nestled into the wall next to it.

The doors hissed open, allowing them passage into a massive warehouse. Bright florescent lights lined the ceiling high above, steel scaffolding and gangways darting inbetween. On the ground was an oval ring, like the one at the _Kloster_ for track, and on the walls to his right were rock-climbing segments and railings with straps and harnesses. Beneath them were slated metal doors that Shinji could only imagine the contents of. Along the left side were narrow tables and what looked like computers, bulbous pod-like things taking up most of the space.

So utterly enamored, Shinji nearly bumped into Asuka, jumping as he realized there were other people about. In front of them was Lützow, looking out of place with his wiry physique and white lab coat. Next to him was a woman in a tan camo uniform with a blue beret, which sat atop long and silken dark hair, so subtle in shade it almost looked purple. Her brown eyes regarded him kindly and he gasped – she was Japanese, like him!

She looked no older than some of the 13th graders he saw at the _Kloster_ , at least not compared to the man beside her. His light gray uniform was impeccable, his red beret sporting a blue shield with a golden eagle streaking downward. On his chest were dozens of colored bars, leaving Shinji to wonder just how many battles the man had fought in.

Lützow smiled. "Shinji, Asuka, this is Second Lieutenant Misato Katsuragi and Captain Todd Weissenburg. As of today, they will be your instructors in physical fitness, first aid, basic survival techniques, operation of weapons _and_ maintenance of weapons."

Weissenburg only grunted, steely eyes unwavering. Miss Katsuragi, however, bent forward with her hands on her knees. "Hello~!"

Shinji faltered for a moment, belatedly deciding to greet them both in German before bowing. "It's nice to meet you, Mister Weissenburg, Miss Katsuragi."

The German soldier shook his head. "You will address me as either 'sir' or 'Captain'. Understood?"

He gulped. "Yes, sir."

The Japanese woman flashed him a grin and winked. "You can just call me Misato, 'kay handsome?"

Shinji's face got really hot.

A touch on his shoulder reminded him Teacher was still there. "Behave yourself. I will see you in two hours." with that, the man departed – as did Lützow.

No sooner had they left than Katsuragi handed them each a bundle of clothes, instructing them to use the locker rooms across the way to change into the new blue shorts and a sleeveless white shirt. When they came out, their new instructors had changed as well – each of them sporting sweat pants and shirt.

"We'll just go over the easy stuff for now," she said as they closed the distance.

Weissenburg seemed to be doing his best to ignore her and sat down with his legs crossed, motioning for them to do the same. "Before we teach you anything, you have to know how to condition your body. So we will stretch _first_."

He and Asuka shared a glance.

Weissenburg led them through over an hour of calisthenics, explaining why each particular bend was important and what muscle it stretched. Shinji already knew a little from his soccer coach, but this was completely different. It made Shinji's whole body scream with fire, tingling with an unreachable itch in his skin, his neck crawling as if there were hordes of ants scuttling down his spine. It was the worst hour of torture in his entire life. Most of their stretching they accomplished on the floor, the other half by standing. Shinji knew Weissenburg must have done that on purpose just to make it hurt more.

It also didn't help that he couldn't stop looking at Miss Misato. Every time she would catch him staring, she would smile and his heart would beat faster.

At last, the torture ended and they were given water. Weissenburg led them to the tables on the left side of the gym, where they were given crackers to munch on while he unfolded several large sheets of paper, all with mind-boggling arrays of lines. From what he gathered, they were some kind of maps, but the numbers and letters on them didn't make sense, and seemed to have been arranged at random. They were shown how to read it all and how to use it for land navigation with the aid of a compass.

Mercifully, the lesson ended when Weissenburg stowed everything away. "That's all for now. You will be reporting back here everyday at eighteen-hundred. You're free to leave."

Shinji turned to the door leading into the warehouse, Teacher waiting for them by the threshold.

"See ya' tomorrow," Miss Misato said, hands on her hips as she watched them go. He knew she watched them out because he kept glancing at her over his shoulder, never quite satisfied with the brief look he managed to get each time.

As they got home, Asuka sighed loudly and threw herself onto his bed. Shinji set his backpack down and began fishing out all of the books and papers he would need for homework. His back and thighs protested as he sat and he tried to massage the agitated muscles, though moving his arms just made his shoulders roll in their joints and sting.

"I don't like her," Asuka said, flipping onto her back and folding her hands behind her head.

Shinji twisted 'round. "Who?"

Her eyes flashed. "Katsuragi! Who else, stupid?"

Shinji felt himself stiffen, not entirely sure why that made his heart gallop so suddenly. "Why?" he asked, swallowing past a led bolt in his throat, "she seemed nice."

"You think that about everyone. It's just a trick," Asuka said, eyes boring into the ceiling.

The silence that followed was barbed, the frogs outside beginning their chorus of warbling chirps. Shinji went back to his work, confident that Asuka would let the matter be and either play video games or go home. Maybe he could get at least one geometry problem done before he became too distracted with whatever she decided to play.

"Do you think she's pretty?" Asuka asked.

When he looked up, she was resolutely staring at the ceiling. "What?"

Asuka's nose twitched. "Do you think she's pretty?" she asked with more force, sitting up.

The air was taut now, a chord ready to snap if it was tweaked just the wrong way. He started to panic, annoyed all the same that she was even asking such a thing. Why did she care, anyway? "Uh, well, ye– no, I mean, um–"

She turned her head with a, "Humph!" and pointed her nose to the air, arms folding over her chest.

Shinji blinked. "What are you doing?"

She turned her head again. "I don't want to look at your face right now," she said in a regal tone.

Another blink, his expression bordering bemused. He picked up his ruler and went back to work, something about her tone irking him. He glanced at the ruler and then to her, unwavering in her dedication to ignoring him. But if she really wanted to ignore him, she would have left already. He smiled a little.

Reaching over, he swiped the ruler at her hair, throwing a lock over her shoulder – turning and hiding the stick. Her head whipped around just as he looked to his book, leaving no evidence that he had in fact just tossed up her hair. Eying him up and down, she reluctantly showed him her back.

Suppressing a smirk by biting his tongue, he eased the ruler out and swiped her hair again. He was reading his book when she snapped around, an unspoken threat in her eyes. He pretended not to notice and with every ounce of will managed to look bored. He let the time breathe a little, a good thing too since she kept shooting him sharp glances. Minutes passed until finally she let her guard down enough and he eased the ruler free of its hiding place.

As he inched it closer a third time, her shoulders rose – and she pounced, tackling him and causing them both to tumble across the floor as they started to wrestle.

* * *

"Today, you're going to learn about hand-to-hand combat," Misato said. They were standing in the center of the running track, its gold and black patterns soft and spongy beneath Shinji's feet, yet firm enough not to give much under his weight.

After two weeks of learning to use grid maps and coming to understand the differences in elevation marks, larger and smaller scales, as well as how to measure distances, this sounded like a welcome change to the tedium of those lessons. The only part that concerned him was combat.

"Me an' Shinji wrestle a lot," Asuka said with a certain air of superiority. As if she were in on some secret about fighting that the two adults were not.

"Oh, really?" Misato asked, sporting a smug look, "what about how to hit properly, then?"

She answered by punching Shinji in the shoulder.

Weissenburg chuckled. "In some ways, yes. But in your hand, there many little bones that can break if you hit them too hard."

Shinji's head tilted to one side. "How else do you hit someone?"

"Punching is fine," Misato said, "but as an immediate fall back, palm strikes can work well to disorient or stall the enemy – especially if you're hitting them in the face," she motioned in the air around Weissenburg's nose and jaw, demonstrating the moves as she spoke. "If you're hitting someone in the head, you want to try and use what we call 'hard points', so places like your elbows or your knees. A 'soft point' is somewhere like the stomach or the neck. Ideal places for a closed-hand strike."

Reaching down into a duffel bag on the floor, Weissenburg strapped a pair of big pads to his hands. Misato hunched her back a little as she raised her fists. Bringing her right arm up and back, her body jerked forward as she stepped into the blow, snapping her elbow down onto the right-hand pad.

She stood back and motioned them over. "I want you to hit the pad like I did with my elbow. You first Asuka."

Weissenburg kneeled and held up the pads. Asuka tucked her chin like Misato had showed them, raising her elbow and thwacking it against the outstretched pad.

"Not bad!" Misato cheered, nodding him over next.

Shinji did the same, tucking his chin, elbow up – and then he missed. He heard Asuka snigger. Then there was warmth and weight behind him as Misato crouched down, her long hair tickling the back of his neck. "Here," she said, gentle hands touching his arms, "you have to hold yourself like this. Now try."

Shinji still fumbled, but at least his elbow managed to touch Weissenburg's pad. Misato chuckled, yet there was endearment in her smile. "We'll work on it."

Now that he had been thoroughly embarrassed, the rest of the session went much the same. What they'd been shown was something more advanced, and Weissenburg started them off with the basics – namely boxing.

Everyday they returned, stretched and endured yet more lessons on land navigation before practicing hand-to-hand. They learned the first steps of Judo and Jiu-Jitsu, with Misato and Weissenburg demonstrating the moves, and later teaching them how to make strikes to disorient or hit pressure points, or where to hold their arms to defend against incoming blows. The wrestling portion of their training required very little instruction. Combined with Judo, it became less about submitting and more about how far they could throw one another across the mats, much to Misato's amusement.

One day Weissenburg had motioned for them to come close as he drew a black combat knife from the sheath at his belt, letting their fingers test its razor sharp edge so they would understand just how easily it could part flesh. He showed them how to hold the knife in different ways, having them practice angles of attack with their own pair of rubber blades.

"This weapon does not only stab," he said. "It cuts and jabs and slices."

They learned where to stab and slice when appropriate, committing it all to muscle memory. In combat, reactions needed to be quick and deadly, or so Misato said. They were shown where to hit someone to inflict the most damage – told how each wound would hinder their opponent. Puncture the lung: cause internal bleeding, opponent drowns. Sever arteries: cause exsanguination. Stab neck: sever blood vessels or trachea, massive hemorrhaging and rapid blood loss.

"But it's a small target," Misato said, touching fingers to his upper arm and thigh. "So you're better off aiming for the femoral arteries."

"You like to slash? Use this," Weissenburg said, introducing them to a weird-shaped weapon called a bolo. It curved forward and had a fatter blade towards the tip. The hint of pride in his expression as Asuka took a liking to it was hard to miss.

As the days went by, they started to use the Filipino fighting stick, while afternoons were spent with wire-mesh masks and Kendo sticks. Both of which left him and Asuka with a myriad of yellow bruises. The following evenings in his room became a bragging session about who had the most welts. Extra points for the purple ones. Then every Sunday, Weissenburg would have them dress up in thick, black padded vests, complete with gauntlets and helmets with clear visors. He would give Asuka and Shinji each a black knife with flat edges that, with the press of a button, could deliver a small jolt of electricity on contact. Then he would have them fight.

Asuka was a different person in these competitions.

Their very first fight she'd tackled him to the floor and stabbed him in the chest – twice. She didn't help him up when she stood either, and there was something cold in the way she regarded him. He knew then that this wouldn't be like their wrestling matches by the olive tree. Shinji couldn't pretend to put up a struggle and lose just to get it over with. Besides, Misato was watching and he hated getting beat in front of her.

Usually, Weissenburg wouldn't let them leave until he won at least three matches consecutively. Some days their sessions dragged out until the sun sank below the horizon and their fights looked more like a drunken dance. That was when Shinji discovered he could tire Asuka out. Her attacks were always brutal and all-out – so all he had to do was stall, or grapple her to the ground until Weissenburg forced them restart the match. Then, when she was good and exhausted, he could trip her or push her and win with a decisive jab.

That got her real riled up and usually she'd wrestle him into submission as soon as they got home to soothe her wounded pride.

It was at the end of one of these sessions that they were taken to another room adjacent to the warehouse. It was small, claustrophobic, and looked a bit like a hospital. Big circular panels were attached to the ceiling, bathing the area with luminous white light. Along the walls were a handful of monitors, while containers and tools with hoses attached to valve laden instruments lined the empty spaces. In the middle of the room were long beds, while wires hung from the ceiling and flowed out from the back of tall machines like giant snakes. Several doctors and nurses moved back and forth between these, barely sparing them a glance as they were taken to the tables. Lützow was amongst them and offered him a brief smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, but had the opposite effect.

"What's this?" Shinji asked, climbing up as Misato patted the bed.

"It's so we can read and record your neural activity," she answered, commandeering a nearby roller chair and sitting on it the wrong way – arms folded over the back-rest. The big lights got brighter as he took all of it in, the rest of the room darkening with shadow. Or maybe it was his eyes tricking him. One of the nurses fit a white thing with lots of wires over his head, fastening a strap under his chin. Then, with almost no warning, slid a needle into the crease of his arm. To his right, Asuka suffered the same.

"Is this another test?" he asked, ripples of anxiety trembling his chest.

"Sort of," Misato said with a half-shrug, "all you have to do is fall asleep. I'll be right here when you wake up, okay?"

He laid back, not taking his eyes from Misato for a moment. Something cold began to spill into his veins, his whole body icing over from the inside. Everything started to blur and a heavy blanket of fatigue encouraged him to sleep, tugging at his eyelids. Shinji couldn't explain why, but it felt good going to sleep knowing she would be sitting right there the whole time, watching over him. He wondered how long he could stay awake for.

"Misato?" he asked, her name slurring on his tongue. He blinked hard. "Is it normal to not believe in God?"

"I guess so," she answered, shrugging. The world blurred, no matter how wide he made his eyes. He tried to focus on the cross he'd caught a glimpse of hanging from her neck, but couldn't quite manage.

Each word took a world of effort. "Then what do you... believe in?"

Misato only smiled. "Go to sleep."

* * *

As he walked through the halls of the _Grauen Kloster_ , flooded with other kids getting out of class with the end of the school day, Shinji thought about the girl Erika. She was pretty, he decided, feeling foolish in the same moment. What could she have wanted to talk to him for? She hadn't tried to approach him ever since then, not even at football practice, even going out of her way not to make eye contact with him at games. He told himself it didn't really bother him. Much like the Bavarians, he didn't really fit in at the _Kloster_ anyway, so it didn't matter.

However, a familiar blonde ponytail down the hall brought everything to a screaming halt, including him. The girl was leaning against the frame of the large double doors leading out into the main courtyard. Swallowing, he pretended not to notice her as he walked by.

"Hey, Shinji," her voice stopped him at the threshold and he turned, bracing himself.

"Uh, hey Erika," he said, trying to be polite. She smiled a little and he returned the expression hesitantly, heart pounding.

"Can I... ask you something?"

"Uh, sure." he tugged at his uniform collar, which was suddenly too tight.

"Is Asuka... uh, is she your...?" Erika trailed off, eyes expectant while a shade of red crept over her cheeks. It took a second that felt like a full hour of dead silence for his brain to start working.

"Oh..." he said, gulping past the lump in his throat, hands waving while he hoped his face wasn't as fiery as it felt. "No, no! That'd be really weird. We're just friends since I, uh... live next to her house."

Erika blinked. "Oh." then she giggled, a hand rising to cover her mouth. It was the most lovely sound he'd ever heard. His shoulders relaxed and he grinned, unable to help the chuckle that came forth. They were allowed to stay like that for a few moments, before his name echoed up the steps.

"Shinji," a peeved Asuka barked as she marched to the doorway, "what the heck? Let's go home already!"

She almost stopped halfway as she spotted Erika, recognition flitting through her features before her eyes pinched. "You can go away now," she said, a hand clasping one of his arms.

He tugged against her as she started to move. "It's okay Asuka, she's from my soccer team."

"So what?" she looked at him like he was stupid before regarding Erika with those dismissive eyes again. "Shinji doesn't want to talk to you anymore."

The girl flinched. "But, uh–"

Erika jumped as Asuka stepped forward and slammed a fist against the aluminum lockers. When all she did after that was look stunned, she was given an encouraging shove. The redhead had enough of a reputation at school that the threat of getting mauled for setting off her temper was a very real concern.

"Asuka!" Shinji yelled, reaching out to stop her. It was already too late. Erika spun on a heel and ran out of sight down the hall. He rounded on her. "Why'd you do that?"

"She was being annoying. Now come on." she grabbed his arm again and he yanked it free. Asuka kept marching ahead as though nothing had happened.

"She didn't do anything..." he sighed, trying and failing to hide the anger in his voice. Asuka was quiet, keeping several steps ahead of him so that all he saw was the sway of her hair. The walk across the courtyard and into the waiting Lexus was a blur, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He didn't even want to sit in the same car with her and imagined himself turning down the street and going home on foot. That'd show her. It would land him in a world of trouble with Teacher, though. Before he knew it he was in the car anyway and they began the winding journey through Berlin.

Asuka took to looking out the window, silence reigning over the car and giving him ample time to stew. It startled him when her voice crept between them. "Why did you want to talk to her anyway?" she asked, apparently talking to the window since she couldn't be bothered to face him. The car jostled and Shinji stared down at his hands in his lap, fingers intertwining.

"She seemed nice and I... I don't really have any friends here, so..."

"You're stupid," she snapped, shifting.

Eyes narrowing, his body sagged and he set his gaze on the car door. "And you're just a bully," he mumbled, low enough so she wouldn't hear.

The fifteen minute drive to the Langley estate was the longest in his life. When they finally pulled up, neither of them spared the other a glance as they took separate paths home.

* * *

Training at Gehirn became a bit of a formality. He and Asuka still rode there and back together, but there was no conversation or half-sincere teasing to be had. It was now a sort of compulsory activity that had to be endured before they could continue their normal routines without one another. Shinji refused to feel any guilt over what he'd said. Asuka was wrong and she had to know it. She was too smart not to realize how mean she'd been. It didn't really matter what he did though, she didn't care.

If they weren't going to be friends anymore, it was probably for the best. There were rules to their friendship that he always seemed to break, entirely because only Asuka was privy to the rules. Of course, it was perfectly fine for her to bend or twist those whenever it was convenient. Despite that, he always looked forward to seeing Misato and her smiles. It made the oppressive, tense air between him and Asuka easier to forget about.

Over the course of the next two weeks Weissenburg taught them about standard operating procedure in the military, like radio etiquette, what words to use and in what order to say them to relay a certain message. Other days they learned how to dress wounds, anything from dehydration to a severed limb.

On one particularly dry and humid day, Teacher yet again led them to an open grass field, a wall of dirt at the far end. Waiting for them was Weissenburg, who had abandoned his uniform shirt in favor of something sleeveless and black. Next to him, Misato wore a green camo tank top and tan short shorts, hair tied back while big reflective sunglasses hid her eyes.

He hadn't really noticed it before since Misato usually wore her military uniform, but in the tank top, her chest seemed... bigger. Or maybe it was simply because he could see more of it. That was when he noticed those sunglasses were turned towards him, and though he couldn't see her eyes, a smirk that claimed to know his inner thoughts poked at her pink lips.

"Alright you two~" she sang, a hand rising to adjust her red beret, "you're going to learn how to shoot today."

"We'll start with this sidearm," Weissenburg said, drawing a gun from the holster at his right hip. He knelt in front of them and turned the gun from side to side so they could see. It was all black with smooth slats and a sharp, squared design. "This is the Heckler and Koch P-eight, semi-automatic. The magazine holds fifteen nine-millimeter bullets." clicking something on the side of the gun, Weissenburg slipped the magazine from the handle, tugging one of the coppery bronze bullets out to show them. They were half the size of Shinji's index finger and rounded at the tip, though he had always imagined them being big and pointy. Weissenburg made a show of snapping the magazine back in place.

"Before we start, you have to understand that this is not a toy. It is a tool for killing and should always be treated with the utmost respect. Am I understood?"

They both nodded and that seemed to satisfy him. Asuka was taken to one of the marked spots at the firing range with Weissenburg, while he and Misato took up a position adjacent. She pulled her own HK free, sliding rogue strands of hair from her face as she took a knee. "You hold it like this," she said, taking the gun in her right hand, index finger stretched out past the trigger guard, "you never want to put your finger over the trigger unless you're going to shoot. The safety's on, but you can never be too careful." with that she held it out to him and he hesitantly closed his hand around the ridged grip.

"Woah," Misato gently pushed his arms away to face down range, "don't, uh, point that at people, okay?"

"Sorry," he said. The gun was heavier than he expected and all of the wars and the battles they'd learned about in history class swam in his mind. Was this what it really felt like to hold a gun? Being so young and so new to the consequences of the thing in his hand, he couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to shoot someone with it. Just the thought of it made his throat sting as if packed with thorns.

Misato took it back for a moment, thumb flicking something while her other hand pulled back the top half. Apparently satisfied, she ticked another mechanism and offered it back to him before turning him to face the range. Up against the big dirt hill were white, people-shaped posters, a red circle in the middle of their chests, with a much smaller black dot in the center.

That was when he felt Misato's chest press against his back while she lifted his arms. "Here, you want this hand to sit over the other for support – let your grip thumb sit over your support thumb too." she adjusted him like one might a doll, placing all his fingers in the right spot and bending his left arm while his right was straight and locked in place. "Squeeze the trigger, don't pull."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, trying not to think about how very close Misato was. She settled a pair of big, padded headphones over his ears, which made them ring with white noise.

She pulled one headphone to the side. "Be ready for the recoil, okay?"

He nodded, imagining he looked brave.

"Don't worry, I'll be right here. You'll be okay – promise," Misato said, giving him one of those winks and readjusting his headset. Her hand slid over his, clicking off the safety.

Shinji closed his left eye, chest shivering as his heart thumped faster and faster. Time stretched, impossibly slow and silent over the next few seconds as he squeezed the trigger.

Even with the headphones on, the crack felt deafening. He staggered, shaking and wanting nothing more than to drop the thing. Her grip stopped that from happening and she kept his arms held out as he pressed his back into her.

Her tongue clicked as she tugged his headphones off. "Hey, hey– look, it's okay – _look_."

Calming, he peered down the range, seeing that he'd hit the red mark on the target.

"See? You're okay."

Shinji practically jumped out his skin as another bang from Asuka's gun sounded. He saw her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, lining up another shot. He squinted to spot her target, flinching once more as her second shot punched through the white silhouette, just outside the perimeter of the red circle.

An insistent nudge at his elbow drew him back. "Come on," Misato said with an impish smile, "let's see if you can get all fifteen on the mark."

As Shinji started getting used to the mild kick of the gun, Misato was able to let him fire without holding his arms. It made it harder to aim that way, but it was a rare few that missed the red mark.

"No fair! how do you make it hit _every time_?!" Asuka cried, having impatiently fired as many bullets as she could – as fast as she could, missing most of the mark.

The sun soon began to set. Shinji's hands and arms buzzed with numbness, the lingering sensation of gunfire coursing through his limbs. He and Misato sat on a bench off to the side of the range. Asuka had refused to be finished with the day's training until she had mastered the use of the sidearm. Weissenburg was not opposed in the slightest. She still missed a lot.

Misato was sitting next to him with her legs crossed, one knee bouncing. An elbow was propped atop one leg, arm holding up her chin as she leaned forward, bored.

"Misato... why do we have to learn this stuff?"

"Whaddya' mean, kiddo?" she asked, staring out over the gun range. A crack from Asuka's gun echoed.

"I mean, don't only soldiers learn how to fire guns?"

The woman looked as though he had just electrocuted her. The bouncing of her leg stopped and her posture straightened as she slid those reflective glasses to the top of her head. "Well, uh..."

"Is there going to be a war?" he asked.

Melancholy came like a shadow over her face. She turned her attention back to the gun range, a much older, unfamiliar Misato revealing herself. Nervousness wrapped around his stomach and he looked to his shoes. It scared him, more than he even wanted to think about. He knew they were supposed to be fighting something – that's why they were being taught how to use guns and knives and where to hurt people. But who and why? What could they be fighting that would make someone who always smiled look the way she did?

 _Are we going to kill people?_ He wanted to ask.

"Hey," she said, voice quieter but summoning his eyes up nonetheless. "Soldiers fight to protect people, right?"

"Yeah..."

She bit her lower lip. "One day... you're going to do something very important to protect mankind, so you need to be strong like a soldier is for when that time comes. Can you do that – for me, Shinji?"

She didn't even have to ask. He would do anything she wanted if it meant she wouldn't look so sad anymore. "I'll try," he said, nodding.

She smiled, the other Misato returning as she took her beret and planted it atop Shinji's head. "My brave little soldier, hm?"

For once, he didn't mind being little Shinji.

* * *

Swathes of coral red and pink clouds dragged across the sky like paint, fading orange light casting a warm glow over the garden. He sat on one of the many boulders encircling a large pond beyond the back porch and bed of white rocks. He and Asuka had often spent their afternoons tossing pebbles into it, scaring the koi fish that drifted gracefully between the reeds and lily pads. Their scales shimmered with yellow and orange, reflecting with the dimming rays of the sun. Most of them were easily the size of his forearm, mouths gasping at the surface of the water every now and then as they circled expectantly for food.

Protecting mankind. That had to be as huge as the entire world. How was he supposed to protect something that big? It didn't make any sense. What could he be piloting that could do that? Shinji had spent the better part of the evening trying to think of ways he could protect a planet. He liked to think he'd come up with a lot of fantastic ideas for a nine year old. It was just getting adults to think they were good ideas too that was the trouble. Adults always thought they were so smart.

There was the muffled crunch of rocks behind him, drawing his head around to Asuka as she vaulted up onto the boulder. She settled herself close to him, their hips touching as she dipped her feet into the water with his. The sky had been dyed shades of violet and pink like the Amaranthus flower in the rose garden, flecks of dying sunlight barely visible beyond an encroaching wave of deep-sea blue.

When she settled her arms back and found the koi fish far more worthy of her acknowledgment, Shinji mulled over getting up and leaving. The thought scurried from his mind the same moment it arrived. Anger warmed him, upset more with himself for not being able to hate Asuka like he wanted. He bounced his feet in the pond, surprisingly not scaring any of the koi fish away. If anything they were excited at the prospect of food, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be feet. A few gave his toes a spiteful nibble before dashing away.

"What were you talking with her about today?" Asuka asked, tone only mildly accusing.

He considered not answering, just to spite her, but ended up shrugging. "About the stuff we're doing. She said that we're going to protect people by learning to fight."

A scoff. "Of course we are."

"But why?"

"What are you, stupid?" she asked, the venom from her bite absent. Her eyes followed the fish drifting idly by their feet. "We have to."

 _We_. He thought. The buzzing, gnawing feeling of doubt that had been filling his thoughts the past month vanished, dissipating like rain water with the return of the sun.

Asuka muttered something and Shinji's head quirked. "What?" he asked and her face smarted.

"I'm not a bully, I just..." she went quiet and guilt tugged at him like a pair of meat hooks in his ribs. She'd heard him in the car afterall. A stern expression made her seem years older as she stared into the water, shoulders hunched and eyes hard.

Shinji shrugged. "You're... Asuka," he said, not knowing how else to put it.

When he thought about it, there was rarely a time they were ever apart. Even at school, when she talked with her friends from her advanced sessions, he and Asuka always ended up together. While he knew what made her sad and he _definitely_ knew what made her angry – she was still this pent-up force that he could never predict. But she was Asuka. That was enough. The idea of her helping him protect the world didn't make it seem quite so daunting. He turned his head and found her staring at him, expression utterly unreadable.

"Asuka?" he asked. She leaned closer to him, so close he could smell the kiwi shampoo she used in her hair. He blinked, leaning back. "Asuka, what?"

She smiled and said, "You're such a dork," before giving him a push that sent him flailing off the boulder.

"Ow– hey!" he shouted, scrambling to his feet. Asuka only laughed, leaping off the rock and running towards the garden. A big, goofy smile on his face, Shinji gave chase.

The lightning bugs were out that night, neon green and yellow streaks zipping through the pines and ferns while others lit up the branches above like an alien starry sky. They raced and tagged with the children, who pushed and wrestled in the soft grass as their laughter filled the lonely garden.

* * *

 _Are you there God? It's me, Shinji._

 _I know me and Asuka have to protect the whole world somehow, and I don't know what you want me to do about that, but I'm going to try. Just make sure Asuka doesn't get hurt too much, okay? I know she's mean, and I know she can hit hard and probably cares more about winning than any other girl, but I don't think she likes fighting. Not really._

 _So, if it's not too much to ask, I need you to make me strong. Otherwise, I can't protect anybody._

 _Are you there God?_


	7. Act I - Chapter 7: Little Secrets

**Chapter 7: Little Secrets**

* * *

Just like when they used to play the roles of knight and princess, Asuka was indeed the ruler, or the Empress – as she called herself – of the Langley's grand garden. He was safe there. He was protected. The _Kloster_ wasn't the barbed, ominous school it had been when he was younger, but the memory of his strangeness, and a perceived special treatment he didn't actually get, every so often encouraged a group of boys to give him a reminder of just how unwelcome he really was. Eager to make sure he never got too comfortable.

They'd wait until Asuka became less vigilant, wait until she strayed from him at lunch breaks or inbetween classes. She couldn't stick by him all the time, not with her advanced studies. Neither could broad-shouldered Marcel's threats deter them indefinitely. Even if he, Heiko and Yani got even with them later on, the gang would just cry foul and everyone involved would wind up doing chores in the chapel after school.

So it wasn't much of a surprise that they'd caught him out by the tennis courts today – or that they'd outnumbered him five to one. He'd gotten pretty good at fighting under Weissenburg's instruction, but he couldn't fight five at once. Not by himself. At least one of them he knew by name. Günter. The kid he'd tackled in the mud his first week at the _Kloster_.

If this was a fair fight, Shinji probably could've beaten him to a pulp. But he remembered his instructor's words: _There's no such thing as a fair fight_.

The first boy he knocked off their feet with his book-bag, the second he managed to catch across the face with a backhanded fist, while the third tackled him into the chainlink fence at his back. He broke the hold with a downward elbow, lashing out each time a foot or a fist crunched into him. After a few split lips and maybe a broken finger or two, the boys decided they'd landed enough hits to make their injuries worth while and scampered off.

His shirt had been caught on a jagged metal link, ripping into his arm. He would have to go see Sister Cécile again. She would stitch the patch while eyeing him curiously and might even ask how he'd gotten his bruises.

"I don't know," he would say with a shrug, making her sigh in a sad way. Shinji thought of telling her the truth, but that would only make more trouble, in the end.

Asuka found him with a bloodied nose and a spattering of bruises, sitting against the fence and staring up at the sky. She didn't say anything at first, swaying in place a moment while he did his best not to meet her eyes. He sniffed, smearing blood over his sleeve as he swiped it away, but smiling a little as he sat up.

"It's not so bad," he said.

Asuka kneeled next to him, loosening the red sash around her waist. Her eyes were somewhere far off in thought, face perhaps a bit too pensive. A quiet Asuka who, for a rare moment, had no scathing words or sharp commands. She tied it tight over the deep gash around his arm, allowing herself a pleased nod. They'd both been taught how to dress wounds, but Asuka knew better than anyone he didn't want to go to Sister Cécile – and they didn't have anything else to wrap it with.

"There," she said, letting some life come back to her expression. "Now no one will know you're bleeding either."

He huffed a laugh, clinging to the fence to help get his feet. "Why would I care if they see me bleed?"

Asuka gripped his arm tight and he winced. "Cause then people will think you can't take care of yourself. Dummy." the last word was uttered as little more than a whisper, her hand falling back to her side. In the cherry tree across the way, a growing commune of crows complained as space became sparse and the line had to be moved to the power cables arcing over the road.

Shinji was off balance when she was like this, when she paused or stared or set herself in somber silence.

"I can take care of myself just fine," he said, injecting that haughty tone she loved to use so much.

She snorted. "Yeah, right. You wouldn't last a day without me."

"I don't need you to protect me," he sneered. "They'd beat me up either way."

"Maybe I should just let them from now on," she said, stabbing a finger into his wound.

 _Like you could stop them_. "You wouldn't."

"Would too!"

" _Wouldn't!_ "

" _Yes. I._ _**Would**_ you big jerk!"

The talk of the birds quieted and a stillness sat over the tennis courts, roaring Berlin traffic the only indication that the city was still alive. The arc of her eyebrows, balled up hands and tightness of her arms – all blatant warning signs to stop if he didn't want to get beaten up a second time – gave him pause. Long enough to see her as older, like she always wanted to look, like she always _did_ look, mustering such a threatening glare at only nine.

Shinji couldn't help it. He laughed.

Asuka's face reddened and she pushed him – still stifling giggles – into the fence. When he calmed and she couldn't stand the sight of him anymore, she shouldered her pack and spun, all while he wondered, with mild amusement, what he had done this time.

* * *

In her marble green Volkswagon Polo, a headlight hanging loose as though the poor used car were shedding a tear, Misato picked them up from school and drove to Gehirn. It was a day for tests but thankfully without needles and hospital beds. They camped in her office while she asked them questions and recorded the answers along with notes into a computer that clicked and chugged, annoyed by Misato's slow, careful input. Shinji took the only other seat in the office by her desk and, while she whined and cursed, noticed an empty six pack of beer partially hidden behind a trash can under the table.

He was pretty sure that wasn't allowed, but would never tell on Misato – and assured her of as much. She didn't gush like he was hoping, saying, "That's nice," and continuing to glare at the screen. He was staring at her sun-warmed cheeks and eyeing the way her chest bounced whenever she huffed, trying to think of ways to get her attention – when Asuka nearly pushed him to the floor, claiming he had to share the seat. They argued, until he at last gave her half. That kept the peace for maybe a minute, and soon enough they were at it again.

Misato growled and waved them off, " _Get_ – and behave," she said, with that look she set on them whenever they weren't listening during training and Weissenburg wasn't there to scold them or box their ears. Well, Shinji's ears. He had never disciplined Asuka beyond a warning or two.

They ran to stand against the wall beside the door, seeing which of them was taller. Asuka was rather upset until she noticed his shadow on the wall and told him to hold still while she snatched a pencil from Misato's desk. Shinji waited and did as Asuka directed, smiling when she told him to puff out his chest and look tough. Tongue out, she started tracing the profile of his face on the wall.

As she finished, Lützow poked his head into Misato's office. "Lieutenant, Shinji," he said, nodding to each of them in turn, then, "come along now, Asuka."

She straightened her hair, quieter again as she grabbed her pack and made for the door. Before she left, her gaze came around to regard him, looking up and down. Then she lunged forward to stab a finger into his wound, retreating just as suddenly and slamming the door shut.

Shinji grabbed his arm, though the bite of it was almost pleasant, rubbing the area without thinking of anything but his shadow on the wall and how bored he was going to be now.

"What happened to your arm, Shinji?" Misato asked, rigid with concern.

"I got... cut. Asuka gave this to me," he said, patting the sash.

There was a face Misato made whenever he did something she didn't like, which he hated. The edges of a smile stopped tickling the corners of her lips and her mouth became as flat as her stare. She set that look on him now.

He should've fought those boys harder. He should've won.

"Come on, let's get that properly bandaged." he obeyed as she motioned him over, leaning on her elbows to be a little more level with him. Neither of them spoke as she unraveled the red sash, revealing the rough flesh and testing its torn edges with light brushes of her fingers. Reaching to grab a medical kit, she opened it in her lap and sifted for the rubbing alcohol.

"Why didn't you go to the nurse's office?" she asked, soaking a cotton ball. "Hm?" she set her eyes on him when he remained silent and he shrugged, admiring the contents of the kit.

"I dunno'."

Misato jabbed the ball to the gash and he hissed, the burn tickling every little nerve, each tiny receptor pleading to pull away. She was ruthless and efficient, dabbing every inch and swiping in some areas, until she was satisfied it was clean and that he'd squirmed enough. She rubbed antibiotic ointment smooth across and set a bandage over it, intent on her task. With that done, she wrapped the sash over it again with care.

"You know," she began, something of the playful tone he liked so much returning, "in medieval times, princesses used to tie a sash around the arm of their favored knight before they rode out to battle."

"Why?"

"Because then the knight was obligated to return it to her." she smiled, tying off the knot. "It was a promise that they would meet again."

Shinji contemplated the sash, which was done up in a neater fashion than Asuka had managed: smoothed of wrinkles and fit around just tight enough. The fabric itself was actually coarse on his finger tips.

"Speaking of which..." Misato said, the tilt in her voice seizing his chest. "Do you have a girlfriend yet, Shinji?" she asked, leaning her chin on a fist and peering at him from beneath hooded eyes.

Her smile grew as he blushed. " _No._ I-I mean, I don't really like any girls, so..." he couldn't keep the frustration from boiling out, or Erika from slipping into his thoughts.

Misato pouted. "Not even me?"

"I do like you, but..."

"And what about Asuka?"

"That's different," Shinji mumbled, tempted to sit on the opposite side of the room and refuse to talk to her. Then he scoffed. "She's barely a girl."

Misato giggled, covering her mouth. "You'd better not let her hear that."

Shinji, though silent, agreed – a wary eye on the door now.

Misato caught up on her reports, some of which he knew must've been about him, but never asked. Asuka appeared around the same time, tugging on his sash to check underneath. Nodding, as if a mentor approving a student's work, she led the way out of Gehirn when Misato was finished.

Once home, he chased her upstairs as she went to fetch charcoal sticks, and was then dragged back down to be puppeteered along the outside wall of the house. There, in the sunset, Asuka traced and filled his profile one more time.

* * *

Shinji sometimes thought of what it felt like to die.

Each pounding step smashed through his heels a little harder, jarring his bones to settle as a growing ache in his hips. The pain, for a moment, let him forget he had to breathe. Until he gasped for air. The rifle in his hands slipped.

It probably felt a lot like this.

"Come on, boy!" Weissenburg snapped, jogging alongside him. "Rifle against your chest, head _up_!"

Shinji did as he was told, the rifle seemingly a thousand pounds heavier and making each inch he lifted it unbearable. His combat uniform was soaked through and stuck to his skin and chaffed against his inner thighs. He was panting hard now, and had completely forgotten everything Misato taught them about keeping their breathing even, his rib-cage searing and his sides stinging like jabs from their electric knives.

Lagging several feet behind, Asuka was faring little better, struggling more to keep pace than anything else. Weissenburg announced they only had a hundred yards to go on their run. It was such good news Shinji almost cried.

Rubber scuffed the asphalt of the road as Asuka tripped, the weight of her vest throwing her momentum. She staggered to keep her feet and Shinji reached back, hooking a hand under her arm and pulling her along with him, thankful that she was far too tired to refuse or say something nasty. He wasn't even spared a resentful look, but when Asuka caught her pace she nearly fell again shoving him away.

Days like this made Shinji hate all of their training.

He didn't mind Misato's sharp criticism during CQC or Weissenburg's barking commands while they practiced with firearms. Anything from pistols, to rifles, and once a heavy caliber. Even if some were harder to use and made his arms ache. Anything was better than running and drilling.

When Weissenburg was sure each of them could dismantle his myriad of weapons and put them back together without incident and clear jammed casings without smashing their fingers or blowing their faces off – he had announced it was time to start firing under stress.

Shinji had never thought about how heavy a tactical vest was until he'd been made to run a few miles in it. He was old enough now to have his own camo green uniform, made with heavy fibers that weighed ten pounds on their own. Misato, trailing behind them, said normal soldiers did it in 90 pounds. To Shinji, 40 was still far too much.

At last they reached the firing range and Weissenburg bellowed, "First target: prone – three rounds!"

He and Asuka practically fell to their stomachs and Shinji fumbled, forgot to brace his carbine, stopped, checked his magazine and realized he still had the safety on. Asuka's rifle reported and Shinji took his first shot without aiming down the sights. The round puffed into the sand wall behind the target. His second shot hit with a satisfying _ding_ , but missed the red marker. His third shot he let fly before his muzzle came all the way down and the round clipped the edge of his target. Asuka shot her third round a long moment after his and he heard the faintest of hits.

Weissenburg ordered them up.

Shinji, pausing as he again forgot to click the safety, had his rifle yanked to face the ground. "Goddammit boy – muzzle down! You know what _down_ means?!"

Embarrassment burned him and Shinji thought about throwing the damn gun at Weissenburg's feet. Instead, ragged gasping in his ears, he jogged down the range to where Misato was standing.

"Kneeling position, two targets, four rounds!"

Shinji collapsed to a knee, checked safety, aimed down sights, took two breaths, and squeezed. First shot hit. He waited for the muzzle to settle this time, and struck center. He shifted aim, fighting to concentrate with the crack of Asuka's rifle beside him, rattling over his already shaking nerves. First shot hit, second shot hit. No center. Shinji was to the point that he just didn't care. So long as he made a hit, Weissenburg wouldn't lecture him much.

When they had run the length of the range and spent their magazines, only then were they allowed to fall to the grass, where Shinji was certain he was melting, and painstakingly try to recompose. Misato handed them water and he choked trying to chug, spitting some of it up on his already wet shirt. The woman didn't scold him as she had in the past for his haste. She walked out to the field with Weissenburg to inspect the targets, her gait slack.

Asuka finished her water, sat with her legs crossed and glared at the field, the cicadas speaking between them. The shuddering impact of his rifle buzzed in his arms now that he was still. Their instructors finished their inspection. Misato stared at him the way she had in her office days before, and he knew he must have done poorly. They were herded to the lockers deep in Gehirn again. Asuka still said nothing. She was tired, he reasoned.

Shinji peeled out of his vest and uniform, which ended up piled on the floor in a gruesome murder of cloth and stitchery. He showered, reveling in the steam and coolness of the white tiled walls. He closed his eyes so that it was dark and warm. Time drifted to the pattern of water beating on his skin and the scream of the nozzle, the drill rolling in a thunder with it. His heart rate was still coming down, muscles oozing down to his feet. He ran through the drill again and again, hating each iteration. _Safety. Brace. Target. Fire. Breathe. Target. Fire. Safety. Stand._

So many mistakes.

 _Safety. Brace. Target. Fire. Breathe. Target. Fire. Safety. Stand–_

A buzzer rang. The water flow stopped and Shinji didn't remember curling up and lying on the floor. He dried and dressed hurriedly, leaving his combat gear behind. The day settled in his mind and stumped any thoughts of effort. He didn't care if Misato reprimanded him for it. He'd already disappointed her.

Out in the main corridor, everyone was waiting on him and Weissenburg was palpably annoyed. Misato, still, regarded him in a way he couldn't read, but made the walls taller and the air colder. Asuka didn't punch him or give him a sneer, only started walking with their instructors, barely allotting him a glance as he moved in step alongside her.

Already seated in the conference room was a woman with short, choppy hair, calculating eyes latching onto him. Her baggy blue uniform made it seem like she was slouching, but she simply looked relaxed, and gave them a small smile. Shinji remembered her and the way her eyes pinched like someone from the east. Bolkovac, as her nametag read, didn't look particularly asian or european. She was somewhere inbetween, like Asuka.

He'd known her since two months ago when the UN appointed her to, in her own words, "ensure the training program is maintaining UN ethical standards." then she'd winked at Weissenburg, "just in case."

The man, as he did with everyone, tried to treat her as part of the scenery. But Shinji watched the woman step into his space, put their shoulders centimeters apart, tease at his cold exterior. She got along well with Misato too, fluent in Japanese. With the Captain, it was different, and he began to notice the way the German soldier's shoulders relaxed when she was near. The quiet conversations they shared while he and Asuka drilled.

Something about that had changed. Today, Weissenburg didn't acknowledge her and she, with her small, wistful smile, did the same.

The Captain sat them down and reviewed their performance. Asuka had missed most of her marks. Shinji had scored plenty of hits, but very few at the center of mass. Misato said they would be performing the drill every week until they felt their scores were passable. She was rigid and withdrawn, mimicking the man at her elbow, who, instead of sounding perpetually displeased, adopted a quieter tone as he spoke.

"It wasn't bad for your first run," he said, arms crossed. "The key to this exercise is to ensure you're able to return fire quickly and accurately when under duress."

Shinji frowned and kicked his feet. He was just barely tall enough for the tips of his shoes to touch the floor. "How will this help us pilot?"

"It isn't to help you pilot," Misato said, failing at a smirk. "These exercises are to grow you accustomed to combat conditions."

"Fine, can we go now?" Asuka asked, slouching in her seat. Weissenburg motioned up with his hand and, after a bout of glaring, she obeyed. They were dismissed, but all that really meant was Misato was going to drive them home now. The Captain and Bolkovac stayed behind.

It would be seven o'clock by the time they reached the estate and Asuka might fall asleep compiling notes while he studied for tomorrow's test.

They climbed the ramps out of the underground warehouses and Shinji snared a glance of a woman's submachine gun, though he couldn't say which model. When he had turned 10, a lot of things he was still trying to figure out had happened. They each saw Lützow scantly these days and were given actual security I.D. cards to get in like the adults. Day by day the man looked increasingly haggard and sleep-deprived.

"We're very close," he'd say, sporting a grin that, on him, looked manic. "Yes, very close now, Shinji."

Inside Gehirn there were armed guards – not like the old ones who were more akin to pudgy police officers – but full-fledged soldiers dressed in tan while sporting red berets, rifles slung around their shoulders. Since then, the place was constantly under construction, halls and rooms sealed off by tarps while power tools blared. The warehouse they trained in never really changed, though Gehirn itself began to flood with other people – scientists, soldiers, technicians. Everywhere he went there was a big red leaf cut down the middle by the letters NERV – a saying about God arcing under it.

As they left Shinji noticed how Misato stared at the road on the drive home. Her face hadn't changed much since the drilling. That wasn't Misato. She was always smiling or teasing him about something.

"Misato, what are we piloting? How come no one can tell us?" he asked, hoping to stir her out.

She tried on another smirk, like earlier, and it stuck. "It's a very big machine – and because it's very secret."

" _I_ already told him that," Asuka said from the front seat. They hadn't fought over it today. But only because he'd lost that battle the minute he'd come out of the showers and seen the look on her face. Not just any look, but _the_ look. The one that said " _best watch where you step_ ".

Shinji ignored her. "How big?"

"Taller than the Treptower," Misato said.

Bigger than a skyscraper! How could he ever move something that big? Was that why he had to be strong like a soldier?

Before he could ask, Misato perked up. "Hey, It'll be Valentines day soon, you know."

Valentines day. Misato's prodding about girls made all the more sense now. Shinji had once seen Herr Langley come into the house with an armful of roses, though not from the garden, and a heart-shaped ginger bread cookie bigger than his chest. When he'd asked Teacher about it, since they'd only briefly gone over the tale of Saint Valentine in school, he was told that such things were an adult affair and he had no business knowing.

On the occasional walks to the S-bahn from school he saw a few storefronts packed with fat little pigs offering flowers and laying down chocolates. Asuka said those and the four leaf clovers were for luck. With them were piles of big cookies that said things like, 'my treasure' or 'I love you'.

"What do people do on Valentines day?" he asked.

"They hug and kiss and stuff. Don't you know that?" Asuka said, sticking her tongue out and trying to bat at him over the seat. He stayed where he was, knowing she couldn't reach. Her struggling intensified.

Misato patted her on the head and she whined, but sat straight.

"Well," she said, jerking them back between the lines on the road. "In Japan, girls give boys chocolates."

"I thought boys were supposed to give girls love letters and things like that?" Asuka said, crossing her arms.

"It's a little different back home. Boys only give girls chocolates on White Day in March."

"That's dumb."

Shinji had already stopped listening once Asuka mentioned kissing. He didn't like thinking about those things, not really. Adults kissed, which meant Misato kissed. Other people. Other not-ten-year-olds. He thought instead of last summer when they went to Saalburg with her for SonneMondSterne festival. Asuka had gotten in trouble with her dad again, so he made Misato take them both out to the countryside. She'd, at first, seemed very annoyed, making one-worded grunts when he tried to talk to her on the car ride there.

She was better once they arrived, pulling into a parking lot on a sandy hilltop, where they could see the endless horde of other cars stretching across the banks. They helped set up a tent in a sea of others, swarming with people, some of them Misato's age, sporting red eyes and reeking of beer. There weren't really a lot of kids that he saw, except the ones from the town nearby. It sat along a river that bulged into a lake, where the shoreline was flooded with swimmers. The water there was freezing, even in Summer. Ever since Second Impact, winters and snow only came to northern Germany, but it was colder for longer come August through February. Thuringia, which was a little farther south, was only a few degrees warmer. Shinji brought along a portable stove from home and made soup.

At night there was music and light that splashed blue and purple over everything. The thumping beat was so loud they couldn't hear eachother talk, but they didn't need to to dance. Shinji didn't know anything about dancing, he just moved around a lot. The music demanded it. Asuka danced too, just as flailing and goofy as him.

Misato made friends with their tent-neighbors, despite only being able to manage grasping attempts at German. He remembered she wore a bikini most of the trip, which he was never able to look at for very long since Asuka always wanted to play. Misato didn't care much so long as they stayed together and didn't leave the camp. So, of course, he and Asuka had snuck out at the first opportunity. They ran barefoot through a town called _Kloster_ , up to where the river was thinner.

Teenagers from the hostel over the hill were racing to see who could reach the other bank first. Asuka and Shinji got close to their little troop and watched, while the older kids regarded them with brief, dismissive looks. Occasionally, they would splash water at them and Asuka would retaliate in kind. Soon enough they migrated across the river and that was fine by Shinji.

He didn't go out very far into the water anyway, where it was darker and he couldn't see the bottom. Not until Asuka spotted a log drifting along the easy current, way out in the middle. She paused at the border where the light sand met the seaweed. Where unknown terrors lurked. Across the way, the teenagers hollered and jeered.

So when Asuka dove out into the river, he had no choice but to follow if he didn't want to be left in the shallows. The water grew colder as they swam, gasping for air like fish as they grabbed hold of the log. Asuka had gotten there first and tried to gloat between each breath. Something slithered along his toes and he managed to fight down a yelp.

Two boys and a girl swam out to the log and threw themselves over it too.

"Bet I can hang on longer than you," Asuka said.

"Betcha' can't," a blonde boy said, shaking his wet hair and showering them in icy sprinkles. Asuka kicked water at him and he started trying to reach over and slap her hands on the wood to make her let go.

"Hey, that's cheating!" she cried, scuttling further down and demanding he do something. Shinji scowled and lunged at the boy.

"Hey, cut it out!" he shouted. The blonde swatted a hand at his. Shinji fumbled, but caught the boy's wrist and pulled the attached fingers towards his face, intent to bite. But the teenager was stronger, and after a moment of panic, tugged free.

Really, it was the boy's friend that got him to stop more than anything. His build was bigger and he whacked the blonde on a shoulder.

"Come on, dude, don't be a dick."

A glare was shared, and that was that.

He wasn't sure how long they drifted, but at some point he'd stopped being able to feel his legs, and then his hands and arms. What came after was a lot of sputtering and flailing in the water. Asuka was shouting something, hands grabbing his waist. For a moment, he thought they were both going to drown at the bottom of the river. At least until there was sand on his face. Warmth, a body near him. Someone struggling for air, so hoarse it hurt to listen to.

That night they'd huddled in the tent with their only towel, sniffing and shivering. Misato was too busy enjoying their tent-neighbor's grill to have noticed much where they went. The front flap was open, letting them watch as fireworks popped over the lake. Even with Asuka pressed up beside him, he wasn't warm. They were both damp to the bone.

"I could've won if I didn't have to save you," she said once her teeth stopped clattering.

"But then you'd be sick all by yourself."

"Shut up," she said. Then, folding away from him, "make me soup."

* * *

Grandma Ilka's visits were getting shorter and longer between. She tried to come in the Summer, when it was warmer and Asuka wouldn't be held up by school. But his friend was always at the _Kloster_ now, taking extra courses and extra tests.

She didn't talk so well with Ilka anymore.

"Do you have any boyfriends? A nice catholic boy, maybe?" she asked this visit, carefully. Someone nudging a dwindling fire with their toe.

Asuka flared. "No, and why would I care if they're catholic? That's stupid."

Ilka sighed, her hurt and disappointment filling Shinji with guilt, even though he hadn't said anything at all. She tried asking Asuka about her studies, or what they did at NERV, which made her groan.

"I told you _Oma_ , I can't talk about that with you."

Shinji thought this visit might go better than the last, but he also thought Ilka wouldn't have asked about boyfriends or anything like that. He wondered if _Oma_ would still come for Christmas next month, and whether or not she would bring presents. Every year she came with something for each of them, and his were always a toss up since she never really knew what to get him.

This time she'd brought Shinji a sketch pad and conte crayons. He'd never liked coloring much, the exception being Asuka's chalks on the back patio. But that usually devolved into a fight to color more space than the other – creating jagged bricks of red battling blue – once driving Herr Langley into a lecture that ended with both of them spending the afternoon washing it off. That had also ended with a soap fight, and they were split up for a day.

Still, he thanked Ilka for the gift, acting the proper boy she thought he was. They sat in the same living room he'd fist met her and felt so out of place in. It was more a second home now, albeit with nicer things he often feared bumping into and breaking.

This year, Ilka hadn't bothered with a present for Asuka.

Her parents came in after a long bit of silence, suggesting they go outside and play for a bit. They'd done little more than sit by the patio steps and wander the rose bushes before going back. Asuka hovered at the edge of the door, just beyond sight. Puzzled, Shinji followed her lead, listening. She stared hard at nothing.

"I don't know what to get the girl," Ilka complained. Glasses clinked on the coffee table. "She throws out everything I bring her..."

Margaret sighed, and Shinji could imagine her head shaking. "She's always been that way. I've tried asking her what she wants, but... she says she doesn't need presents, and rarely keeps what we give her."

"It's this insistence that she's too grown up for those things," Herr Langley said. "Children shouldn't be like that."

Ilka didn't seem to hear him. "And what about her faith, Margaret? Doesn't she pray anymore?"

"Yes, every night. Or at least the nights I check on her. She won't even let me go in her room now. I know she only prays so I'll leave her alone about it."

"It's because the protestants who run that school of hers are so lax about it. You should be more strict with the Sunday services," Ilka said, clicking her tongue. "She would take it more seriously if you did."

Shinji heard clothes shifting, then Herr Langley spoke again. "No, she wouldn't. Asuka has her own mind for things. She'd just throw another tantrum if we tried to make her go."

Margaret's voice was quiet. "She scares me sometimes."

Asuka grabbed his arm and yanked him along, back to the garden. They holed up in his room for the rest of the day, even when Ilka came looking for her. Asuka refused to acknowledge she was even there, and Ilka ended up calling a strangled goodbye from the front door.

"You shouldn't throw away her gifts," Shinji said, just about hoping he wasn't heard.

Asuka was all too focused on her video game. "Things won't be different just because they buy me stuff," she said, and they didn't talk about it anymore.

Her birthday came and went. Shinji found himself in Misato's office again, waiting on Asuka's return. When he told her how the girl hadn't gotten anything, Misato made a thoughtful noise.

"Maybe you should get her a gift," she said, turning. That mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Asuka?" he balked. "But she doesn't like getting presents."

That prompted an incredulous look. "You don't think she'd like getting a present from you?"

"She... she isn't like that..."

Misato shrugged. "You know best," she said, in a tone that suggested he very well did _not_ know best. She slid over to him on her rolling chair and produced a 500 euro bill, pinched between her fingers. Stuffing it into his shirt pocket, she patted his chest, smiled, and went back to work.

At first, he thought of all the things he could get for himself with it. A Playstation of his own maybe, so Asuka wouldn't be able to lord ownership over him whenever he wanted to be first player. Or he could buy a bike, that purple and green one sitting on display in Riken's shop off 23rd. He thought a lot about that, even stood in the store some days and stared at it, hand in his pocket over the money.

But that wouldn't have been right. He could practically feel Misato's disappointment, and that wasn't worth one silly bike. So, what to get Asuka? He agonized over it for weeks, long past her birthday.

A few days later, he went up to her room, as he often did before they left for the _Kloster_. She was still brushing her hair when he walked in. They only had five minutes before it was time to go, but she was a master of scheduling and used every available minute.

"Here," he said, putting the present on her vanity table, wrapped in the red sash she'd given him. Asuka put her brush down, eyeing him, and it, suspiciously. He shrugged, secretly trembling as she unraveled the thing, a sharp reply on the tip of her tongue. At least until she took in the small pair of orange sapphire earrings.

"They were supposed to be pink, like the lilacs," he said, feeling like an idiot now.

Asuka didn't say anything. She put one in at each lobe, turning her head to inspect them in the mirror, where his head poked in sight at her shoulder.

"I didn't need a gift, dummy," she said, snatching her backpack and leading them downstairs.

Asuka was her usual self then, but didn't call him names or try to trip him out by the soccer fields – for a whole day at least – and that was unsettling. She spoke less, withering and moody, and Shinji wondered why he had even bothered. He saw her wearing the earrings everyday anyway. In a teasing manner, he asked her why she kept them if she didn't like them, to which she shrugged and suggested she might flush them down the toilet.

Shinji managed to keep a straight face. "Bet you won't."

In a sense, he called her bluff. She threw them in the pond instead.

He spent every following afternoon trying to find them, combing the soft sands and bed rocks and giving the koi little fishy heart attacks, until it became too dark to see much of anything. Many times he thought of just giving up. One week later, he left them in a small envelope under her door and she wore them the next day to school.

She never tossed them away again. Even when he, inevitably, prodded the fire once more, prompting a storm of bickering that had Asuka covering her earlobes and trying very hard to pretend he was on another planet – though she never took them out.

* * *

It was the last day of the _Karnival der Kulturen_ and Asuka was hot on his heels every step he took, badgering him in a way Mrs Langley once described to her husband as 'cute'. Shinji thought it was nothing of the sort.

"Hurry up! What's taking you so long?"

Toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, Shinji scrubbed one-handed, the other stuffing extra clothes into his backpack. He made a retort that was lost in the foam.

"How much stuff does a boy need anyway?" she demanded at the doorway, hands on her hips. Seated in the living room, Teacher didn't look up from his tea.

Asuka had planned the excursion down to the minute, and they were well behind schedule. It wasn't Shinji's fault there had been a traffic jam on the way home. All he could do was scramble to meet her demands, before she shouldered her pack and tugged him out by the tie. No time to change out of his school uniform, then.

They ran down the main road and into Bernau proper, taking the S-bahn into Berlin. Any sitting room was already taken since they'd just barely made the train out. Shinji's sleeve actually got caught between the closing doors. So they had to stand, hanging onto the hand rails. Everyone was going out to the _Karnival_ , and that's what made him nervous. Shinji couldn't fight it, not that he wanted to, but Asuka had, on what seemed a whim, decided they would be going earlier that year. It wasn't a command so much as a decision she was making for both of them, and Asuka had been looking forward to it for months.

Rolling through Berlin, they transferred at Badstrasse and rode the old U-bahn line across the Oberbaum bridge, arching over the Spree river to Kreuzberg. The glow of a late autumn sunset covered the rooftops and colored the window panes. It speared through the maple trees and cast a golden halo around every head of hair crowding the streets, while children their age played over the grass plots set ablaze in the afternoon.

They walked through the Mehringplatz, a double-tiered ring of housing and restaurants, to find the restrooms. Music reached them from across the plaza. Asuka disappeared for what felt like a lifetime, so long that Shinji jumped when he heard her ask, "Did I do it right?"

She stood next to him in a kimono, or a yukata – he couldn't remember the difference. It was red, with white blossoms sprouting from thin, golden branches. The band around her stomach was yellow, tied off at her side where she could reach it better.

"I think so," he said, feeling very under dressed. "What'd you put it on for?"

She held her arms out, sleeves drooping. "Lots of people dress up."

"You could've told me," he said, heated. "That way I could've gotten one too."

Auska's lips drooped and she started off. "You just would've complained the whole time."

" _No._ " Shinji said, making a face.

" _Yes_ ," she pushed him, but walked close, decidedly less enthusiastic about her choice of outfit. Larks twittered overhead.

"It looks nice," he said eventually, and she glowered, knowing he was only saying it 'cause he felt guilty.

Still, Asuka wasn't one to pass up a compliment. "I made Misato get it for me," she said, and proceeded to tell him all about how the woman didn't understand color schemes very well.

Standing atop her tall column, Victoria watched them pass, holding her laurel up for all of Berlin to see. Her copper skin had turned green over the years, her robes marred by streaks of black.

They crossed the Landwehr Canal, hurrying along with sporadic herds of people until they bunched up at the crosswalks, making Shinji feel more and more like a penguin as they shuffled forward, inch by inch. Asuka, with him in tow, shoved her way past hairy legs, bulging purses and plastic strollers. When they made it out, up on the window shelf of a place called Little Tibet, he took in a lungful of fresh air.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to a big, hulking creature with horns and a snarling face. Asuka, failing to yank his arm down, pressed herself against the glass as it noticed them.

"Dummy, now it's coming over here!" she cried, clinging to his arm and kicking at it as the thing got close. "Go away, go away!"

Shinji just laughed, and when it turned back with the crowd, was just about pushed off the ledge by a fuming Asuka.

A beat thumped through the trees and hummed along the glass of store fronts, shaking his ribs with a pulse that could have come from deep within the earth. All around the cherry trees were in bloom, sprouting little fluffy white patches of cloud drifting through the streets. Throngs of thirteenth graders sat along the top of the vine trellises like eager crows, cawing in their slang-riddled tongue over the crowd, hands overflowing with frothing beers.

Confetti fluttered down to them, tossed from the apartment balconies above and sprinkling the paraders with flecks of red, gold and green. Tan women with curling brown hair wearing huge, bright feathers on their backs – and only the barest amount of clothing – sauntered by. Others swirled about in frilly dresses stitched with elaborate patterns of birds and flowers. Roses and daffodils woven into their headdresses. Kids their age, faces painted with streaks and patterns he couldn't place, came marching down beating small black drums. The boys, sporting red and beige robes. The girls opting for gold and black.

Then came the paper dragons, curling over the crowds and cutting a path for a troop of Samurai, ornate helmet crests poking above the sea of heads. Shinji followed them until he had to lean and stretch on his toes to see. He hadn't thought there were any other Japanese people in the country but for him and Misato. Silly, now that he thought of it.

"My dad tells me about Japan sometimes," Asuka said as they disappeared. She hopped down off the window sill, and Shinji followed.

"I thought he was from America?" he asked, watching as she fished in her yukata.

"He was stationed in Saitama for a while at Camp Asaka. He said that's what made him think of my name." she pulled out a few small bills, and groaned. When she held out her hand, and the expected coins didn't appear in it, she faced him fully and bounced her hand. _Gimme_.

Shinji shrugged, looking away.

She stamped a foot and pouted. "Shinjiiii!" she whined.

His head rolled with his eyes, and he made a show of tugging the coins from his pocket and plopping them into her palm. She smiled, and they worked their way to one of the food stalls, where Asuka purchased a bag full of cinnamon sweet churros.

Shinji waited until she finished stuffing one down to ask, "So what does he talk about?"

"Huh?"

"Your dad."

"Oh, mostly about _Kami_ ," she said, still with a mouthful. "And the Buddhist stories."

Shinji nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. A group of people, not dressed in costume, danced to the beat of hand held drums, swaying their arms, shirts tied like turbans around their heads. He'd been reading more and more about his home country's myths, which was a nice break from the usual Greek or Roman tales, even if they were just as strange. He certainly preferred them to the fairy tales Sister Cécile was so fond of sharing, like the story of the boy who let his finger nails grow, only to be beaten in his sleep by the villagers for it. Or the girl who sucked on her thumb, just for it to get cut off with a giant pair of scissors.

They passed by a church, flanked by two tall spires with the same weathered green as the statue of Victoria. It stood guard before a graveyard, closed off by walls splashed with graffiti. Shinji liked reading about Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi. Or their brother Susanoo, the storm god of Summer.

"Teacher told me about this old couple, during feudal times," he said. Asuka was still wolfing churros.

"When?" she asked, bits of fried dough tumbling free.

"Like with Samurai and stuff."

Asuka wiped her face with the sleeve of her yukata. "Yeah, but what period?"

"Kamakura? I don't know. But this couple didn't have any children, just a dog. One day it dug in their garden and found a box full of gold. Their neighbor thought it could find treasure, so he borrowed the dog."

"Why'd they let him borrow it?"

"They just did, okay? When it dug in his garden, all it found were bones, so the neighbor killed the dog and told the couple it had just dropped dead. They cried and buried it under the fig tree where they had found the gold." he paused, anticipating another interruption. Asuka stayed quiet, so he went on. "The next night, the dog's master dreamed it told him to chop down the tree and make a mortar from it. When they made rice with the mortar, it turned to gold. The neighbor borrowed it, but the rice turned into rotten berries and he burned it."

Asuka soured. "Why do they keep letting him borrow stuff? Are they stupid?"

"It's just a story. Anyway, the next night, the dog told his master to take the ashes and sprinkle them on the cherry trees. When he did, the trees bloomed and a Daimyo passing by gave him gifts. When the neighbor tried to do the same, the ashes blew into the Daimyo's eyes and he was thrown in prison. So when they let him out, the people wouldn't let him live in the village anymore and he couldn't find a new home."

"He deserved what he got, then," Asuka said, staring down the road. When she noticed Shinji's look, she shrugged. "He couldn't take care of himself, so he died."

"I didn't say he died."

"How can you live without a house?" she snapped, handing him the remnants of her churros. "He'd freeze in the winter or get eaten by wolves."

He picked at the bits left, still warm. "I guess so."

"My house is going to be huge," Asuka said, arms out as she twirled. "With stone walls and iron gates. Built on a mountain like the old castles."

Shinji leaned against the brick guarding the cemetery. "Which mountain?" he asked, watching her spin in a flurry of red and yellow.

"Any mountain," she said, planting her feet so she could peer straight through the clouds, hand reaching skyward. "So long as I can look down and no one can reach me."

"All by yourself?"

Asuka paused, then put a glare on him, something else wavering underneath. "It won't belong to anyone but me," she said, turning and starting back the way they'd come.

A knot released in his chest. In the back of his mind, Shinji wondered; if his shadow were cast on the wall of Asuka's castle, would she draw it and paint it there too?

From Little Tibet they watched the rest of the _Karnival_ parade, waving to the stilt walkers and trying to mime the movements of the passing dancers. As the sunlight waned, so did the vibrancy of the fanfare and dresses. A shadow lurking under every jubilant face, since all knew soon the _Karnival_ would end, and they would have to go their separate ways home.


	8. Act I - Chapter 8: Burden

**Chapter 8: Burden**

* * *

Shinji had always held the suspicion, but had never known for sure. The red triangles in her hair confirmed it – Asuka was an alien. When he told her as much he was rewarded with a bruised shoulder.

He chuckled, jumping back as she raised her fist again. "A cat then? No, cats are cute and cuddly..."

"Go ahead, keep talking you little jerk," she said sweetly, while her eyes promised punishment.

Shinji sat down on the steps leading to the back porch of the Langley house, putting up the white flag early. "Fine, what are they?"

"A-ten clips," Asuka said with a grin, hands planted on her hips. "Haven't you ever been in an entry plug before?"

"A what?" he asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. She knew he hadn't.

" _Entry plug_."

Shinji clicked his tongue. "What the heck _is it_? And if I'm a pilot, why haven't I seen one before?"

"Probably because your robot isn't here – duh."

"Robot?" he asked. Shinji knew their piloting involved some sort of huge machine, but what exactly that was hadn't been clarified. He supposed a robot made sense.

"Do you listen to anything people tell you?" she said, missing his glare as she balanced along the edge of the top step. "They're supposed to finish building mine here in Berlin."

"Just yours?"

She shrugged, wobbling. "They said yours is in Japan at Headquarters."

"Headquarters for what?" he asked, willing her to fall. That might show her.

"NERV," she growled, plopping down next to him, "do I have to teach you everything?!"

 _NERV_. That was a word he'd been seeing around the old Gehirn offices quite a lot recently. He was 11 now, and in the span of two years it had gone from a gated, squat complex to a huge, fortified concrete hive of activity. He wondered if it had been finished at all since his last visit.

To Asuka, he shrugged. "Sure. You're supposed to be super smart, right?"

Her shoulder nudged his. "Why do you have to be so dull about everything?" she asked, face smarting as though she'd just swallowed sour raspberries.

"All I did was ask you questions."

Asuka bumped his shoulder again. "But you should know this stuff!"

"If I was supposed to know, someone would've told me."

"Typical _boy_ answer. You just don't want to admit that you're lazy and don't pay attention."

Shinji rolled his eyes, fishing out his cell phone. She'd been like this for the past few weeks – and it was driving him up the wall. She was sort of right, he would secretly admit. Their teachers had always stressed curiosity in their students. "If there are no questions, then there are no answers." but with Asuka, one was always looked down on for asking questions instead of already having the answers. And when Asuka was in a good mood, she loved to show off by displaying how much more she knew than you.

Glancing up, he watched her fiddle incessantly with the A10 things in her hair. As if they might have floated away in the five seconds between her last touch.

He hadn't seen her this excited for anything in a while. Three months ago they completed their training with Weissenburg and hadn't been back to Gehirn since. Asuka was decidedly sullen after he left, to say the least. He still remembered the vile mood she'd been in the day their drill instructor was set to leave. They were waiting out in the lobby – the one with the painting of Eden – for Misato.

Shinji had wondered aloud where the man was. He'd been thinking of saying goodbye.

Asuka was facing away from him, chin leaning on one hand. "Who cares?" she said, folding her legs up on the chair. Shinji deflated. Though he'd never gotten the sense that the man liked him much, he couldn't deny the elation he felt whenever he was at Weissenburg's side. Whenever he did well in training and was given an approving nod. How hard he fought just for the chance to hear his praise.

He'd never paid as much attention to his studies as he did to Weissenburg's instruction. As difficult as it was sometimes, as much as Asuka on occasion outperformed him, still he latched to the Captain's every word and every movement. He thought of one day being a man like Weissenburg. Then maybe the Order of Malta might invite him to join their ranks, so he could be a real knight instead of a pretend one.

Ambling up, Shinji muttered he was going to go look for him. Asuka didn't say anything as he left. He found Weissenburg in the locker rooms down by the training stadiums, setting his belongings in a duffel bag with steady purpose.

"Misato called you a wolf," Shinji said. It had been bothering him for a while now. The two had never been very friendly, not so far as he could tell, but they'd never appeared cold towards one another. Not until recently.

The man didn't seem surprised at the news. If someone had called Shinji a wolf, he'd at least wonder why.

"I have no claws or fangs," Weissenburg said, expression stony, but the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Shinji nodded. "That's what I said. 'Well, he's still a beast' she said." Misato hadn't said it with a smile, either. She spoke to the man less than before, not even making small talk like she used to just because she hated silence. For the most part, Misato seemed to be putting an effort towards keeping Weissenburg at a distance now.

To Shinji, it had started once the UN lady Bolkovac left. Well, he assumed she must have left. It'd been a while since he'd even seen her. When he asked, on one seemed able to tell him where'd she gone, or why.

The rustle of clothing stopped, the man's hand freezing halfway to the bag. The shadow of mirth was swept away as he finished the motion and drew a small leather bound book from within. Weissenburg sat down on a nearby bench, one hand sliding over the cover and dipping into the pressed letters of the title. Shinji couldn't read it from where he was.

Several times, he glanced at Shinji, uncertain. "This was my sister's favorite book as a child... I'd lost it until recently."

"What's it about?"

Weissenberg grasped it firmly in both hands.

"Once..." he finally said, struggling for words. "there was a girl who hadn't seen her mother in seven years," he went on, almost to himself. For a moment he again eyed Shinji. "Her mother dressed her in iron clothes and she was locked away in the King's castle. He told her when she wore out the clothes, she could go back to her mother. So, she rubbed herself against the walls to scrape and tear them, until finally she was free... and set out from the castle walls. Traveling through the woods to her home, she met a wolf."

"The wolf asked her whether she would take the path of pins or the path of needles to go home. The girl said the path of needles, so the wolf hurried off down the path of pins and killed her mother. When she arrived, the girl was tired from her long journey, and climbed into bed with the wolf, now disguised as her mother."

"What happened then?" Shinji asked.

Weissenburg paused, setting the book in his bag again and zipping it closed. Shoulders slumped, hands on his thighs, Shinji could almost see the man's thoughts drifting elsewhere. "The wolf ate her."

Sister Cécile had told him a story like this before, but the answer still made his skin crawl. In a way, it nearly made him angry. All of these old stories didn't make sense, and he was starting to agree with Asuka that they weren't good for anything but scaring little children.

He wasn't a child.

"If she hadn't taken off the iron clothes, then she wouldn't have been eaten." Shinji said, though by Weissenburg's cloudy gaze, an answer wasn't expected, and he tried further to piece the story together.

Finally, he asked, "why did the wolf kill her?"

Still Weissenburg wouldn't look at him. "What else would a beast do?"

Shinji stared down between his shoes, cold trickling up his legs. He should have been able to realize that. Part of him probably did, but asked in hopes of another answer.

"There are things I can't train you for," Weissenburg said, setting one of his large hands over the back of Shinji's neck. "Should you have to face them, you will either be a beast, or a child trapped in iron clothes."

Why did he have to be one or the other? What could there possibly be that Weissenburg wasn't able to train him for? Because of him, Shinji knew more about guns than most other kids his age. Had been taught how to survive in the wilderness. To focus his front sight and tune out the world around him to hit targets like a certified marksman. Knew navigation and the methods of evasion. Understood squad tactics, disarming an opponent, and all the soft parts of the body to wound and clot.

He would never be like that girl trapped in iron and eaten by wolves.

The warmth of a his thumb rubbing under Shinji's ear left. Weissenburg hefted his duffel bag and the heavy fall of his boots faded in favor of the rumbling air vents. That was the last time he ever saw him.

The atmosphere around Gehirn had been choked after that, as if someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the building. People exchanged cursory glances, expected hellos and goodbyes, but never strayed to talk. Never let the tension in their shoulders ease.

Something had happened, though no one would say what. For a time, he and Asuka weren't called back, and even Misato had disappeared for a while. She hadn't even told him she was leaving – or where. He'd forgiven her as soon as she'd come back a few weeks ago, though.

Currently, Asuka leaned into him, peering at his phone screen while he played Castle Crushers 2.

"You two ready to go, or what?" behind them a lavender haired woman was leaning on the threshold of the back door.

"Misato!"

"Hey, kiddo," she said as he ran up to greet her, ruffling his hair.

He glowered, trying to push her arm away – and failing. "I'm not a kid! I'm eleven."

"Oh, well _excuse me_ ," she laughed, dragging him close as her knuckles dug into his hair.

"Stop– Misato!" he growled, desperately trying to wiggle out from under her arm. She loosened her grip, but didn't let up. "I said stop!" he yelled, finally managing to push her away.

"Oh, don't be such a brat," she pouted when he glared at her. His anger did somersaults in his stomach as he realized how close they'd been. He looked away in the same second, shame creeping across his cheeks. Why'd she have to treat him like a baby all the time? He just wanted... well, he didn't know what he wanted. But the notion was something interesting – disturbing even – and all around uncomfortable.

As Asuka walked up, he saw her eyes squinch for just a moment, then she pinched his cheek. He jerked away, retaliating with a half-hearted punch to her arm.

" _Ow!_ That hurt!"

Maybe more than half-hearted. Asuka reached for him. He grabbed her wrists and struggled to keep her at bay as she pushed against him.

"Hey, _hey_ –!" Misato grabbed an arm each to pull them apart. "Knock it off! Geez..." she sighed, turning to travel back through the house.

Shinji started to follow, only to be knocked back as Asuka moved ahead, sticking her tongue out. By the time they reached the car, she had already rushed to jump into the front passenger seat. Failing to hide a scowl – much to the redhead's satisfaction – he climbed into the back and begrudgingly buckled in.

* * *

They soon left the countryside behind and wound a familiar path through Berlin. Misato stopped the car several times at checkpoints manned by armed guards in tan uniforms. Soon enough, they rode up along twelve foot high concrete walls rimmed with curling spindles of barbed-wire. At the final gate, Misato had her I.D. scanned one last time before the iron blockades slipped down to let them pass.

The humble offices he'd come to know and mostly dislike had been transformed into a small fortress of glass facades preceded by elevated decks, reached via a long series of stairs broken up by gardened terraces.

"Welcome to NERV-03! Quaint little place." Misato said as they rolled into a parking spot. Adults marched up and down the grand stairways, sporting suits or uniforms, a murmur of conversation and activity traveling over the courtyard.

"Race you to the top!" Asuka shouted, bolting up the steps. He wasn't far behind.

She beat him to top, only just, and turned as he staggered up the last few steps, lungs starving for oxygen. "What took you so long?" she asked, breathless.

He fixed her with a glare, ignoring the jibe. "I would've... won if you hadn't... cheated."

"Asuka Langley Soryu _never_ cheats... you're just mad because I'm faster than you."

They walked to a gap under the tall windows stretching over the entrance, descending a ramp into the AC where lines of people waited before metal doors and watchful guards. Above the row of seven gates it read _NERV-03 Terminal 14_.

"Why are there so many soldiers here?" Shinji asked.

"NERV is a special agency under the UN," Misato answered, "so they have to make sure it's well protected. Now get your card out."

They had to scan their cards individually, and once through, boarded an elevator. Shinji counted the levels as they ticked by.

"Asuka's already heard it, but everything past this point is Top Secret, got it?" she said, fixing him with a long, level look.

"Uh, okay?"

The elevator dinged and they departed, reaching a door labeled: RESTRICTED AREA – Authorized Personnel Only. Misato slid her card once more before placing her palm on a grid-lined screen. A moment later it pinged in success and they descended further still into the base, guided down an icy hall with ribbed panels. Just when Shinji thought it might go on forever, a door at its end yielded to a room full of computers, tall towers with green lights flickering behind glass ports standing guard along the walls. In front of them was a table with a shimmering sky-blue surface, a hologram of – well he wasn't really sure what he was looking at. Serial numbers and other redoubts shifted around luminous models of limbs.

A few people with headsets manned some of the terminal stations, one woman sparing them a disinterested glance.

Asuka bolted across the room towards the floor-to-ceiling windows and Shinji followed. A massive chamber at least twenty stories high was laid out before them: within which was a giant figure, though much of it was concealed by sheets of white tarp and a web-like structure of scaffolding and mezzanines that supported a series of armatures.

Shinji gasped. "Wow! It's a person – a giant person!"

"This is Evangelion Unit-02," Misato said, leaning against the window next to him.

"My Eva!" Asuka cheered, pressing up against the glass.

The door to their right slid into the wall, introducing them to a familiar German doctor. He looked a bit more weathered since they'd last seen him, harder lines under his eyes and a much paler complexion. Other people wearing white lab coats entered with him. Most didn't linger, save two. The Japanese man caught Shinji's eye right away, though he seemed more bored than anything, as if there were somewhere else he'd rather be. The second person was probably the tallest in the group, dull brown hair cut short, framing her high cheek bones and squared chin.

"There you are! I've – uh," Lützow paused, a disparaging glance flickering towards his companions, " _we've_ , been waiting for you."

The Japanese man's eyes fixed on Misato. "You are late."

"I... got lost?" she ventured.

"Who're you?" Asuka asked, as if in challenge.

Lützow failed to suppress a grimace as he combed a hand through his graying hair. "Ah, yes, introductions I suppose. Asuka, Shinji: this is the new Assistant Director from Fourth Branch's Technological Division. She was just transferred over..."

"Alyona Moskva," she said, brown-green eyes almost curious.

"And this–"

"Inazuma Fuse," he said, drawing a scowl from Lützow. "Head of Research, Headquarters Division."

Lützow grunted. "Right, well, might as well show you around before we get started." he led them through the left side of the control room, down a curving path that brought them into the bright, sterile light of Unit-02's housing. They were on the highest gantry, able to overlook the entire facility and its bustling crews.

"This is what we're piloting?" Shinji asked, practically hanging over the railing.

Asuka shot him a glare. "No one but me gets to pilot this one."

"That's right," Lützow said with a tight smirk, "but you are correct, Shinji. We've spent a very long time preparing the Evangelions."

"You've only built this one," Inazuma said. " _After_ Tokyo developed the prototypes."

"I was referring to NERV's collective efforts. Unless Tokyo is going to claim they've done this all by themselves?"

Inazuma's eyes squinched, and he looked to have more to say, but held his tongue. After a brief glaring match, both decided to stand down, all while Moskva sported a growing grimace.

Shinji was practically boiling over with questions, but settled on the most obvious. "How does it work?"

"That's a rather broad question," Moskva said, only a bit of a Russian accent creeping through her German. "Do you mean to ask how you control it?"

He nodded.

"To put it simply, the answer is through electrochemical communication."

At Shinji's befuddled look, Lützow poked his head. "With your thoughts."

"Oh," his brow furrowed, "why's it have to be so big?"

"Who cares!?" Asuka barked, excited more than anything else. She grabbed his arm, tugging him down the gantry to show him its head. She pointed to all the different parts, listing off in rapid fire where the entry plug was supposed to go and where all the different weapons were going to be. But the only part they could really see was the chest, shining segmented steel plates coming together at a downward point.

"So, it's silver?"

"No, that's just the base metal. They haven't painted it yet." her eyes widened and she let out a small gasp. "Misato! Tell them to paint it red!"

The woman chuckled. "I'll see what we can do, Asuka."

She smiled and looked back down at Unit-02, going on about her Eva and how it was going to be the best – _way_ better than the two in Japan. He wouldn't know. Her expression was the brightest he'd ever seen it. That was good. He didn't like to see her as quiet and mopey as she had been the past few months. She was a lot less grumpy now too.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

He blinked, a smile he didn't realize he was wearing dropping from his face. He leaned forward against the railing, pretending to have found something of immense interest down below. "Like what? I wasn't doing anything."

"You _were_ – weirdo!" she said, poking his chest.

"I wasn't!"

Lützow stuffed a hand in his lab-coat pocket, the other snapping in quick succession as he about faced. "Come along – we still have a lot to do tonight," he said, and Asuka ribbed Shinji the whole way, grin only widening when he complained she was too close and that he didn't want to talk to her. Only 'cause she knew he didn't mean it.

* * *

The locker room was frigid, chilling his bones and turning the quick change of attire into a race to escape the cold. A race he was losing. It had taken him almost fifteen minutes to get the stupid suit on. There was a thin black mesh on the inside, but it didn't make it any easier to fit into the thing. Misato said if he didn't have it on tight around his arms and legs it wouldn't seal properly. He adjusted the chest piece a few more times, hoping he was doing it right and far too embarrassed to go ask his caretaker for help. Clamping the neck-piece together like he'd been shown, Shinji clicked the device at his wrist and jumped when the suit snap-hissed to his body.

He checked himself, making sure everything was where it should be. The suit itself was mostly white, with a few red markings here and there, the black mesh revealing itself between a few of the angled plates over his stomach. _Kind of like the Eva_ , he thought. Though the armor, if he could really call it that, was just a hard kind of plastic. Or so he guessed. It was bulky around his shoulders and chest, but not top heavy.

The suit creaked as he walked towards what Misato called the Testing Chambers. A shiver scuttled down his spine and he stopped in his tracks.

A pool of translucent red liquid stretched out before him. Wires and tubes spilled from the low ceiling, connecting into ports at the neck of a figure with a head either made of metal or held in some kind of thick mask. His gut sank as he took in the depth of the tanks, the thing inside little more than a torso with two arms that cut off at the wrists. There was a cavity in its sternum, occupied by something that looked mechanical, at least from where he was. There were two other pools within the corridor, marked off with black and yellow strips of caution paint.

A finger jabbing him in the side made Shinji jump, though he stifled a yelp.

"Ooh, Shinji, when did you get so muscly?" Misato cooed, giving his bicep a squeeze. He yanked his arm away and she giggled.

"Stop teasing me," he grumbled, taking a step back – from both Misato and the red pool. "What is that?"

She shrugged. "Just a dummy. It's supposed to simulate the piloting process. Or so I'm told."

Asuka came in from the opposite end of the Testing Chambers in a suit not unlike his. Most of it was similarly a plain white, the torso sporting red colorations. It was shaped differently, yet had the same large print 'TEST' just where the collar bones met. She moved easily in it. Not in the awkward, stiff way Shinji did.

"I hate this suit," she sighed, nose twitching as her eyes fixed to the top of his head. She reached up and adjusted his headset.

"Why are we wearing these?" he asked as she positioned it to her liking.

Before Asuka could answer, Lützow came stumbling over a wire from across the pool. "We're going to start testing your ability to synchronize with the Evangelion," he said, fiddling with an open panel.

"Synchronize?"

"Mhm. It is what will allow you to issue mental commands to the Eva, controlling it as if it were your own body."

Shinji followed Lützow up a set of grated stairs alongside the suspended head, the walkway curving in an arc around the back. A long, white cylinder was waiting there, sitting upon a ringed platform, the base of it touching the water where it would meet the mutilated body's spine. Along its length were the words – EVA-01 PROTOTYPE. Underneath that, in much smaller print, was a serial number and the date: _05-07-2004_ / _Obsolete_ / stamped in red paint.

"This is the technology that will allow you to link with the Evangelion," Lützow said, patting the white tube affectionately. "You'll be situated in the command suite here and submerged in LCL."

Moskva stepped up next to Misato. "It's going to feel like you're drowning when the LCL fills your lungs. But once that happens, your blood will be oxygenated directly."

"So I'll still be able to breathe?"

"Essentially."

Asuka pushed her nose up with a thumb. "You have to suck it in through your nose. It hurts more, but you choke less."

That managed a half-smirk. "What is it for?"

"The LCL acts like a communication link. The A-tens," Lützow tapped Shinji's headset, "bounce your thoughts through the LCL, which channels them as commands to the Eva's brain. Much easier than trying to create an uplink by jamming a neural interface into your skull, eh?"

Shinji didn't think that was as funny as Lützow did. He looked to the head facing down in the liquid. "It has a brain?"

"Purely cybernetic..." Moskva said, "it can't actually think for itself."

Shinji supposed that was why they needed a pilot.

"It is there to decipher the neural input from the pilot," Inazuma said, as if put upon. "This communication between pilot and machine happens all the quicker the higher your synchronization rates with it are."

Shinji nodded, and they took the time to explain a few features of the entry plug – primarily where the emergency exit hatch was and the manual release. Lützow then took Asuka to an adjacent chamber, while Inazuma left for the control room and Moskva coached him on the command suite. She said for now he didn't have to do much more than sit there. So he settled himself inside, finding the oversized chair surprisingly comfortable. It actually reminded him a bit of an airplane cockpit, and was kind of awesome. Then the hatch sealed and he immediately wanted out.

But he couldn't quit now. Not with Asuka and Misato and everyone else watching. The former would never let him live it down. He swallowed down his trepidation. A few lights at the rear of the plug snapped on and he felt it spin, waiting long minutes in the semi-darkness.

A radio-link buzzed to life. "Begin LCL injection," Lützow said.

"Roger, flooding entry plug."

A thick, soupy orange substance slowly spilled in from the bottom of the plug, rising steadily. It was cold as it started to swallow his legs, until the suit regulated the temperature. He braced himself as it reached his neck, swallowing in as it reached over his head. He gagged, a headache pulsing to life in his sinuses. He _did_ feel like he was drowning – all at once he couldn't breathe and liquid was spilling down his throat. Bile tickled his trachea, but he held it down despite his panic. At last the LCL pooled into his lungs and he could breathe again – yet he couldn't. He had the air but didn't need to... well, to breathe for it.

White and black splotches burst over his vision at the sensation. Shinji gripped the control sticks tighter.

"Beginning primary contact."

"Inserting synapses, connecting junctions."

"Transmitting pulse."

Status lights winked to life on his plugsuit, and he could feel tiny conductors vibrating between the mesh and plating.

"Begin secondary contact."

"Roger, connecting interface."

"Connecting A-ten nerve-links."

Shinji flinched as thin, invisible strands of wire cut and dipped into his brain, weaving through tissue and spiraling out into the LCL. Parts of him were everywhere. His thoughts felt loose, drifting out into nothing, like his dreams with the dark ocean. The wires took the drifting bits and sewed them back in place, bit by bit.

"All circuits are operational. A-ten connection is nominal."

"LCL charge is normal."

As they spoke a wash of colors and spectrums flared within the plug, pulsing over his head before coalescing into a view of the Testing Chamber. The LCL elicited a snap-hiss as the orange hue was whisked away to become clear.

"Borderline clear, checking harmonic values."

"Base proto-synchronization rate calculated."

He felt fuzzy. Every sliver of skin was numb – and he blinked, trying to clear his eyes. He went from having a headache to something like a sledge hammer shattering his skull open. He was told he would get used to it.

Asuka's face sprang up beside him and he hollered. Then, curious, waved his hand through the holographic panel. Asuka laughed on the other side.

"Hey, how'd you do that?" he asked, glancing from her to the controls and trying to remember everything Moskva had told him. Was that button there for manual LCL drain? Those switches there maybe? Or was that just part of the mock-up combat suite?

"You don't have to open another window, dummy. I'm broadcasting to your plug!"

"Children," Lützow sighed, "please do not be disruptive, these tests require as little outside interference and stimuli as possible."

Shinji didn't really hear him as Asuka started making faces, and he was half smiling, batting his hand at the screen and trying to figure out how to make it go away. Then he remembered what Inazuma said. "Wait, let me try."

Voices from the control center made resigned comments as Shinji took hold of the controls and closed his eyes, trying to think. Except he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to be thinking, and just imagined his face popping up in Asuka's plug.

Error notifications cropped up and the pressure on Shinji's brain increased tenfold. He grabbed his head, fighting a frown. Asuka leaned closer to the window, as if that would allow her to peer further into his plug, half-concerned and half-annoyed. "It's not a thought-impulse, idiot. The controls are–"

" _Please_ disconnect her uplink."

Her window was whisked away, and for a moment he swore he could hear the echo of a frustrated howl from the comm line in the control center.

* * *

After the initial shock wore off, sitting in the entry plug was actually very boring. He could imagine it was different operating with the real thing, but for the next hour all he did was sit there while the controllers occasionally muttered operational markers over the radio.

At last they told him he was done and drained the plug before sliding the hatch open. He hung over the side for a few minutes, hocking up the LCL that clung stubbornly to his throat. Thankfully, Misato soon arrived with a towel.

They had him standing over a grated area, still dripping a bit with the orange stuff that filled his nostrils with the scent of copper. He'd been given another towel to dry his head with, but didn't want to change and shower just yet. He was, from a non-invasive distance, watching over the shoulder of a technician as readings and gauges for Asuka's plug fluctuated.

"Why has the Research Division waited so long to start testing him?" he heard Misato ask in a hushed tone. He pretended to be absorbed in the computer screen. "And why here? Shouldn't they have taken him to HQ by now?"

"Direct– I mean, Commander Ikari's orders," Lützow answered. "We have the core unit – and the original plug they used for the contact experiment will suffice for testing until the streamline models are ready. As to why, I couldn't be certain. It seems the Commander wanted to be sure he could even synchronize before transferring him."

Commander? His father? That must mean he was in charge of the Headquarters Asuka was talking about.

"Wasn't that why he was picked? Didn't the Marduk Institute identify him?"

Shinji caught Lützow's shrug, a pause between them as he looked to a readout across the room. "Everyone on their list is a candidate, but that doesn't mean they are all able to take the mental strain."

Though he couldn't see her, Shinji imagined Misato must've made a puzzled look.

Inazuma spoke softly. "Some are more suited to piloting that others."

"It just seems odd they wouldn't want to start syncing him with Unit-one as soon as possible," she said.

Shinji spun around. "Misato, when will my Eva be done?"

She jumped and her eyes widened a little. If they were just testing him because his Eva wasn't ready, the sooner it was finished, the sooner his father would call him home. For the first time in a while he thought of that stupid letter he'd tore up. He didn't have long left.

"Um, I'm not sure, kiddo. I think they're nearly done with final assembly. Testing trials are supposed to start early twenty-fourteen."

Moskva made a wry face. "I should hope so, we need the data from Unit-one if we're going to have the production model ready on schedule. First and Second Branch are antsy enough as it is."

Lützow waved his hand. "They won't even have the muscular layers fully formed for another year at least – they can make adjustments. The U.S. is probably just upset they won't have a functioning Evangelion before everyone else."

Inazuma nodded. "We could have had them done much sooner, if China had signed off in two-thousand six. They're only now jumping on the band wagon because they see it can be done."

"After losing the entirety of their coastal provinces, feeding and housing a few million refugees _did_ seem a more pressing issue than some theoretical war machine," Moskva said.

"They knew what the stakes were," Lützow spat. "The Protectorate was just upset over all of the sanctions put on them in the Valentines Treaty. I only hope their bitterness hasn't set us back."

At that, Inazuma's eyes settled directly on Shinji's, and he felt invisible hands clamping around his spine. "So do we all."

* * *

Tests at NERV took up their days just as the training with Weissenburg had. Even here, Asuka was adored by the mostly German staff, treating her as they might their own daughter. That usually left him with Moskva, Inazuma and Misato. The first peered past everyone, as if waiting for a future that couldn't arrive fast enough, and the second was much like Teacher – distant and flat – though sharpened with a bitter condescension.

Really, it didn't feel any different from school, even if there were plenty of people from other countries there. Moskva explained that NERV was a global organization, but there were very few on the research team who weren't German.

Moskva was always very serious, to the point where he was frightened of making _any_ kind of mistake during his tests. After each one, she would bring him into the control room so he could read the synchronization charts, filled out with data collected from the plug. He didn't really understand it and Moskva never explained. Though he deciphered it enough to find his sync ratio aligned within the tabs labeled 'nerve connectors'.

When he asked Asuka about it, her answer made his jaw drop. "36%?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Yeah, what's yours?"

 _13.1%_

"I– I dunno."

From then on, he tried to make the percentage go up for his tests. He didn't actually know what he was supposed to do to make that happen, but it crawled its way higher and higher, little by little, and each time Moskva would take him to the in-house food court and buy him whatever he wanted. She never smiled and they never talked. All the same, he never stopped trying to get that number higher.

* * *

It was morning. Shinji was preparing for yet another school day, clad in the usual uniform for his grade level: dark blue khakis and jacket. He left his white undershirt untucked for the time being. Asuka would fuss over it later and he couldn't be bothered. It was just too early.

As he stepped across the Langley's back porch, he thought, with some amusement, back to her birthday the year before last when she'd turned 10.

 _A wretched cough tore its way out of Asuka's throat, the kind you could imagine ripping someone's lungs to shreds. Her body convulsed as it triggered a bout of hacking. She fell back into her pillows, exhausted, sporting a puffy red nose and pale cheeks._

 _"Asuka?" he asked from the doorway to her room. Her head rolled towards him, bed sheets shifting._

 _"Hey, Shinji," she rasped, barely above a whisper, a small cough shaking her chest. Mrs Langley touched a hand to his back, urging him forward. He'd spied Herr Langley down in the kitchen, garbed in an olive green uniform with golden pins and buttons, a dozen colored ribbons adorning his chest. The man had spared him a glance and a small smile as he passed._

 _Shinji sat in the empty chair at Asuka's bedside, taking in her heavy eyelids and wondering what could make her so sick. She'd been absent from school yesterday, sending him frowny faces over text. Mrs Langley said it was strep throat, but for all he knew it could be some deadly foreign disease._

 _Asuka pulled the covers up over her nose, so all he could see were her eyes. "Don't look at me. I'm gross." her muffled voice said._

 _He chuckled. It was supposed to be her birthday today. So long as he'd known her, she'd never celebrated them in any spectacular fashion. Her parents always made an attempt, but she always found a way to throw it back in their faces, so they'd stopped trying. Birthday parties were for little kids, or so she said. His own birthdays weren't much of an event either. They came and went like any other day._

 _For her birthday this year, he'd bought her more charcoal sticks and a new hair brush. Misato hadn't been around to give him another loan for jewelry._

 _"Are you gonna' be okay?" he asked as she finished yet another coughing fit._

 _"'Course I am, dummy," she croaked, coughing once more._

 _He tried and failed to stifle a laugh, to which she hid further under the covers. "I'm sick... you're supposed to be nice to me," she groaned._

 _'I'm always nice to you', he wanted to say, but knew it wasn't true. When he was quiet, she poked her whole face out of the covers to rasp, "Make me tea."_

 _So he did._

 _Shinji visited her every day for the next two and half weeks. More than a few days he just skipped school to stay in her room while her father and step-mother worked, making her tea and soft foods. Asuka said he was stupid for missing school, but didn't tell him to leave. She couldn't talk very much anyway. Some days she wouldn't be able to speak at all. He never thought he would end up wishing she could. There was one evening while the sun was coming in through the other end of her room, casting his shadow on the wall next to her._

 _Fighting utter boredom, she made him fetch the charcoal he'd bought for her, and started to outline him on the wall next to her._

 _He noticed, while trying to do homework, that she stopped halfway_ – _looking discontent._

Shinji tripped stepping into the foyer. He caught himself, shaking his head as he started to climb up the oaken steps. It was odd, as a child the house had always looked so big. Now that he was older, he realized it wasn't quite a mansion, especially compared to some of the other countryside dwellings in Berlin. Still, it was a spacious home and denoted just how well off the family was.

Up the stairs and down the hall to his right, he made a brief knock as he pushed the door open "Asuka? Come on, we're gonna' be late. You always–"

" _Get out!_ " she screeched, clutching a towel to herself.

"I'm sorry!" he shouted, unable to stagger from the room quick enough. Something whacked against the door as he closed it, heart trying its damnedest to hammer its way out of his chest.

"Dammit, Shinji! You– you stupid idiot!"

Muffled curses echoed at him from the other side and all the awkward lessons from those sex-ed classes came flooding back, entirely without consent. He took several steps away from the door, as if that would separate him from them. Why was his face so hot? Why were his hands shaking? It was just Asuka – he hadn't seen anything. At least he didn't think he had... had he?

The door swung open, revealing a fully dressed and very peeved Asuka. "What gave you the idea you could just walk into a girl's room without permission?!"

He held his hands up. "I-I don't know, I'm sorry!"

"Why don't you try using that peanut you call a brain next time?!" she demanded, pushing past him and storming down the hall.

"Asuka..." he hurried to keep pace as she thundered down the stairs. She didn't respond. "Come on, I said I was sorry."

"'Cause that just fixes everything, doesn't it?" she snapped.

He stopped on the steps. "You barge into my room without asking all the time."

"So? That's different," she said, bag over her shoulder. Then she realized he wasn't following. "Don't just stand there! We're gonna be late and you're already pissing me off this morning!"

Asuka turned out the door and he rushed down after her. "How is it different? And what's your problem anyway? I didn't even see anything!"

"That's not the point!" she hollered, clambering into the car. They both jerked with angry movements, buckling in and then crossing their arms. Asuka crossed her legs, an added layer.

Shinji, fuming, was fine with playing their game of silence until first period. They would calm down enough by then. Berlin soon rolled into view, road humming beneath them.

Asuka clicked her tongue and settled back. "If it bothered you so much why didn't you say anything?"

"You wouldn't have cared even if it did," he said, still bitter.

"Yeah because it never bothered you, so that's a stupid argument."

Shinji gave it up. "Whatever." she would just keep arguing with him and he didn't want to do that the whole car ride over to school. Asuka was overbearing enough without him _trying_ to get her mad. Best to just give up rather than make a big deal about it.

They went their separate ways at the Kloster, and Herr Wilhelm chastised him for his sloppy state of dress as he shambled into first period.

That was more or less the last time he ever went to fetch her for school. It turned out waiting by the front door was much safer. Still, no matter how hard he tried, he could never quite manage to expunge the incident from his mind. Sync-training at NERV continued, and Shinji tried not to be around when Asuka was in her suit.

* * *

Back in the 5th grade, Asuka was enrolled into the upper level classes, sitting with the eleventh and twelfth graders for physics and mathematics. The first year of advanced courses was, as she explained, just primer for the actual courses, which covered any subject one could imagine.

He, on the other hand, was on intermediate level and intended to stay there. Just thinking about taking on all of Asuka's extra schooling made his stomach queasy. She almost seemed annoyed that he wasn't in the upper level too. As if he'd chosen to make her do it all alone. Maybe she should have stayed in the intermediate level if that's the way she felt about it.

Ever since they'd started going to school together, grades, like everything else in their friendship, turned into a battle to outdo one another. Just last year Shinji had had the audacity to consistently gain a higher grade than her in religious doctrine, particularly on the presentations, which she didn't have patience for. What a great month of gloating that had been. She earned her comeback when he scored low on social competence for group projects.

Once she moved on to the upper level, he couldn't be bothered to put as much effort in. Nowadays he was, more often than not, forced to spend time in Silentium to play catchup on homework. Asuka wasn't around much to help anymore and berated him every time he complained about it.

" _God_ , you're frustrating!"

Shinji pulled down at an eyelid. "And you're annoying."

"I'm a princess and I'm prefect," she said, flipping her hair.

"If I poked your head with a needle, would it pop?"

"How about I poke your ribs with my fist?!" And she did. Except it was a full-on punch, and he was laughing while she tried, desperately, to hold onto her anger instead of falling into a fit of giggles herself. His dismissive escapes didn't last, and Asuka started getting legitimately upset with him. To the point where he wouldn't hear from her for a day. Not even a text.

Then for two weeks, she'd gone through a social internship with a hospital for the mentally ill in Bethel. The texts had been practically non-stop, and he wondered what she was even doing up there if she had time to send him so many messages. She wasn't actually an intern too, only helped the coordinator. To gain exposure, they said.

She told him how she found other things to do whenever they had to work with the patients, making it look like she was being busy inputting data, which she couldn't stand. She also hated talking to them, especially the ones with alzheimers who couldn't remember her name. She'd call him at night and they'd talk for a couple hours, or until one of them fell asleep.

When Asuka got back, she hugged him for a very long moment, and vowed she'd never set foot in another hospital again.

Ilka didn't come to visit that Thanksgiving, or come to take them into Berlin for the Christmas Market. But she did write Asuka letters. At first, Shinji expected her to just tear them up and sprinkle them in the trash. Instead, she set time aside to write a letter back while lounging on his bed.

"I thought you didn't like talking to _Oma_ anymore?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's not really a big deal. I'm only writing her because she's old and probably gonna' die soon."

He knew better than that.

Slowly, time together became more of a rarity. Asuka had her advanced classes. He had Silentium. She made friends in a few of the upper level students – and some afternoons would be out with them, not arriving home until later in the night. It was mostly girls, and she seemed to do her best to steer clear of Shinji whenever they were around.

Along with that, girls started giving him looks or would giggle whenever he passed by, hands covering their mouths as they whispered to one another. He saw them differently now, unsure of what exactly had changed. A girl in one of his morning classes, Laurena, drew a lot of eyes, and many more envious looks. She had straight black hair and had started wearing a bra before any of the other girls. It was distracting.

More than that, he watched as boys from other classes would stare after Asuka. She began finding notes at her desk, ripping them up and throwing them in the trash without ever reading them. Others tried a more direct approach. One even offered her a handful of flowers, only to be turned away when she declared she didn't go out with little boys. It made his stomach churn and he wouldn't be able to focus on any of the lessons, tapping his pencil against the desk, chewing on the eraser instead when the teacher snapped at him for it.

Between school and NERV, she didn't come over to his house all that much either. When she _did_ come to the garden, she always had her homework, making him study with her out on the back porch or by the pond.

The gardens died and overgrew in places, while he watched from his small island, unable to stop the change.


	9. Act I - Chapter 9: Firebird

**Chapter 9: Firebird's Feather**

* * *

"You've made very good progress Shinji," Moskva said.

The displays flickered and he frowned at the readings. "It's only 22%. Asuka's is at 40."

A smirk ever so briefly graced her lips. "Did you know she's been sync-testing since she was five? It's taken her a very long time to reach that number. Besides, your rates will be much higher when the core is coupled with the actual unit."

That explained some of her strange behavior when they were little kids. She'd known what piloting was way before he even had a clue. His face smarted and the plugsuit, for a moment, seemed to be made of lead. After he showered and changed, he went with Moskva down to the food court while Asuka continued her testing. Chef Montagne gave him the usual: two slices of pizza. He liked to fold them together and make a sandwich.

After managing little more than a few bites, he asked, "Miss Moskva?"

"Out with it, child," she said, not looking up from her PDA.

"Why are you making the Evas? Why do we have to pilot them?"

"To fight beings we call Angels."

His head shot up. They read about Angels and that kind of stuff at the _Kloster_ all the time. "What are they?" he asked. In the books, they were holy messengers of God with halos and wings and all that. How could they be fighting those?

Her eyes lingered on him. "No one is certain. All we know for sure is that they want to take the Earth away from us. With the Evas, we can stop that from happening."

"But why me? Why Asuka?"

"That's simply the way it is."

 _Why do I have to live here?_ Because your father has deemed it necessary.

 _Why do we have to learn to fight?_ To protect mankind.

 _Why do we have to protect mankind?_ Because we have to.

Those weren't real answers. Nothing ever happened 'just because'. That couldn't be right. It was like everyone was in on some big secret – laughing at him behind his back just because he didn't know any better.

Misato drove them home. Asuka was chatty as they left NERV-03, but Shinji didn't want to talk to her. She kept secrets from him too.

Still, he was curious now. "Misato, who's the First Child?" he'd never really asked before since it was a sore spot with Asuka. She hated being second in _anything_ , but with the Evas it was worse, like when they used to spar.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," she said, shrugging. "They're stationed at Headquarters, but that's about all I know."

"Why don't we get to train at Headquarters too?" he asked. Shinji, at some point, assumed he'd been sent so far away just to train with Asuka. It had made him start to think that... that maybe his father might have wanted to see him after all. At least until he started hearing mentions of the First Child. Why did they get to stay at Headquarters? What made them so special? Was it because they were better at piloting?

"Couldn't say, bud. That's just the way top brass wants it."

Because it was what his father wanted. Asuka cast him a glance, seeming to consider something, but he shook his head and she let it be.

She turned to Misato with a pout. "Wasn't I picked first, anyway?"

"I guess not."

The girl crossed her arms. "Hmph."

As they arrived home, Shinji bid his friend good night, but only after a nudge from Misato.

It wasn't just about her keeping things from him. Back at the _Kloster_ , everyone had started getting really excited over Asuka. But not in the usual, fawning way the research staff did at NERV. Even Mr Langley seemed to be in a better mood whenever Shinji saw him, sitting with Mrs Langley and sharing in a contented sort of pride. He couldn't peg what it was. If something important had happened, Asuka would tell him.

Wouldn't she?

He contemplated this the next day after helping Gepard apply a fresh layer of raw-red mulch beneath the roses. His hands were still a little stained, and left smears of crimson on his sketchpad.

Shinji didn't think himself a very good artist. Not like some of the painters at the _Kloster_ , who made it seem so effortless. It was as frustrating as it was inspiring to watch. Why couldn't he have that talent? Nothing else came very easy to him, except maybe shooting and fishing. There was the cello too, but Teacher said the arts were a waste of his efforts.

Still, if he ever found an opportunity, he spent it trying to draw. Most of them ended up in the trash. Incomplete. Worthless. The pictures themselves survived entirely on the conté crayons Ilka bought him each year. He made them last.

His favorite place to set up shop was by the olive tree, just between the roots. It was secluded, and no one could find him – not even Gepard, who claimed to know the garden like the back of his hand. For most of the morning, he'd struggled with what to even try drawing. He had so little talent, what was the point?

But he scratched out the lines anyway, without any real thought or intent.

 _Angels_. He wondered what they looked like? Where they came from? He thought about these things a lot, and was never rewarded with any answers. Asuka said he was just wasting time instead of focusing on what was important, as usual. But he was. Just because she already thought she knew everything didn't mean it was true. She didn't understand anything, just like everybody else. So what if she was already in the upper level classes? What was there to like about learning useless things? What was the difference when they had to pilot the Evas?

Without realizing it, his hand began to make refined arcs and scribbled shapes. Shinji couldn't be sure what possessed him or why, but he started to draw Asuka. He wished he had some pictures to reference. Asuka hated being photographed. The only one he knew of had been taken by her step-mom and was surely lost somewhere in the house by now. So he had to go from memory alone.

"What are you doing?"

Shinji jumped. Asuka was leaning around the trunk of the olive tree, and he fumbled to shield his picture.

"Nothing! When di–" before he could sputter half a response, she lunged and yanked the sketchpad away.

"Hey!" he scrambled up, but she held it over her head, climbing the tree and plopping her rump on a thick branch.

"Asuka!" he snarled, punching her ankle – as high as he could reach.

"I just wanna' look! Geez, what's your problem?" she snarled. His heart thundered and his face burned.

"It's private."

Asuka just stuck her tongue out, holding the drawing away to see better. Shinji latched his way up a few feet, watching her expression change. Except it was deeper than that. Like a shift, like something had fallen away. A dozen emotions passed through her bright eyes, so intense it made his anger fade.

"I don't look like this," she said, lips pursing. Slowly, she came back. Anger, annoyance – disgust.

He climbed close enough to take the sketch pad back. "You do to me," he said, jumping to the ground. He collected his contés and started for home.

Her feet scuffed behind him. "It doesn't matter what I look like to you. That isn't right."

"Then _you_ draw yourself," her said, offering the pad. Asuka couldn't resist a challenge.

She crossed her arms and he smirked, which made her glare. "I don't have to. It's called a mirror, idiot."

Shinji huffed. "Said the girl who can't even draw a circle."

"Shut up," Asuka said, but it was softer. He fought not to roll his eyes. Now she was going to be all mopey and he was going to have to annoy her out of her shell until she started shouting – or laughing. Or both. She was too easy to manipulate sometimes. He followed the pathway home on autopilot, thinking of his drawing while Asuka kicked sand at his heels. It wasn't a masterpiece, but he didn't think it was that bad. It _did_ look like her. The haughty posture was there, and the proportions were mostly right; a thirteenth grader had taught him how to measure using heads. The only thing he couldn't manage were the eyes, a line cutting over the face in their place.

"I wish I wasn't stuck here anymore," Asuka said, making him stop. She was leaning against the trunk of a tree, looking towards the sky with a lopsided frown. "I wish they'd just finish my Eva and send me to Headquarters already."

Shinji had enough pause to think he should stop. "Better just leave it to the First Child. First is best, isn't it?"

Asuka's expression hardened, but she didn't respond. He was still sore over what she'd said – what she'd seen. It wasn't as though he was asking for much, just a little privacy. Apparently, that was demanding too much.

When she turned and left, he didn't feel a lick of remorse.

As he stood there in the quiet, a forest of white birches creaked. He didn't remember coming to this part of the garden. The trees here looked sick, if it was possible for a tree to look that way; like they were on the verge of crumbling. Fit to topple at the most gentle wind. A wet, green rot sapping at the pure bark.

With only a flash of doubt, Shinji tore the drawing of Asuka from his pad and ripped it into a dozen pieces, letting them scatter into the sagging ferns at his feet.

* * *

Last autumn their class went up north to see St. Nikolai church.

They arrived by plane in Altefähr, learning the old town's history as a ferry took them to Stralsund. It had been around since the time of the knights. One of the few places Catholics and Protestants could worship in the same place. Up until a preacher of the Dominican Order was dragged from the pulpit and beaten to death.

Just before visiting the church they went to the _ozeaneum_ and looked at fish and underwater animals, with a special Pre-Second Impact branch on display. One exhibit had he and Asuka standing in a simply _massive_ room. Giant whales hung from the ceiling, their noses dipping down towards the floor. As though they might dive into these tiny figures far below at any moment.

"Do you think the Angels are that big?" he asked.

Asuka scrutinized the whales, then shook her head. "Are you kidding? They've _gotta_ be bigger than that!"

As they left the _ozeaneum_ , she was still quivering from the sight of the squids. The sun was in the very middle of the sky, where there wasn't a cloud in sight. The church stood like a lighthouse in a sea of clay roofs.

The inside was impossibly tall, as if it were reaching to another plane. The arched ceiling was plastered in white so the light coming in through the windows made it glow. Holding it aloft were archways colored in red, blue and yellow, each pillar painted with an angel in the old medieval style. The edges were cut by gilded gold patterns, which flowed to the grand altar: layered designs of the last supper in black and aurelian. Crowning it was a crucifix, a marble-white man and woman in flowing robes standing on either side of its base. The priest said they were embodiments of hope and faith.

The boys ribbed one another and chortled as they explored, eyeing the naked breasts on some of the statues. Shinji caught himself staring too, glancing around every so often to make it look like he was just taking everything all in. Especially when Asuka walked up next to him, jacket slung over her shoulder.

"What a bunch of perverts," she said. He mumbled an agreement and tried not to look at her chest. Not that there was much there, but he wondered...

Shinji felt his cheeks warm, and found another corner of the church to explore. Away from Asuka.

Afterwards they were allowed to get together in groups of three and roam about Stralsund. Asuka put herself with a pair of girls from her advanced classes, leaving him to stand there awkwardly in the crowd of students, feeling confused, and a little betrayed.

But he spotted Marcel and invited himself into the group, already comprised of Yani and Heiko. Shinji knew the two boys well enough to call friends. He didn't really see Asuka much at the _Kloster_ anymore, so the past year he'd started hanging out with Marcel and the others, loitering by the vending machines and watching Yani make a fool of himself trying to impress girls with magic tricks.

As they all went their separate ways, he caught sight of Asuka chatting excitedly as she and the two girls flitted down the street. Most of the class went to the supermarket and bought sweets, while others went shopping.

Later, they all bought ice cream and made their way back towards the port, where the ferry was waiting to leave. Back across to Altefähr they had a bit of free time and went to the beach, watching the sun set before the teachers herded them off to dinner.

They didn't have any bathing suits, so no one went swimming. The groups didn't fade much either, but he found his way to Asuka again. She was still with her other friends, Gaelle, he remembered. The other girl's name escaped him. They talked but the conversation was awkward and filled with uncomfortable pauses. Until Shinji made up an excuse to leave.

The trip home was uneventful, and Asuka ended up sitting with the other girls, while he and Marcel played cards. A sour pit seemed to gnaw at his stomach the whole way.

Back home, Shinji started taking the S-bahn into Berlin by himself, ignoring Asuka's calls and making up excuses whenever he missed a text. He ignored her a few more times until she cornered him by the locker rooms. She asked him what his problem was and why he seemed to be ignoring her. But he couldn't answer honestly, and just said he wasn't feeling well. Asuka called him a liar. So they fought, traded angry texts, then started riding to school together again once they'd simmered down.

Things went back to normal.

* * *

 _He was in the garden, standing at the edge of a clearing with a spiraling tree that grew golden apples. The sun was blinding, casting the forest around him in thin, ghostly silhouettes. A flare of color snagged his eye: a bird with orange and red feathers sat perched upon a high branch, one of the golden apples trapped in its beak. It held him under its eyes for what seemed a lifetime, before spreading its great wings and flying off with its prize. The garden started to die._

 _He looked down, all at once realizing he was naked. Eyes rising to the tree again, there was a girl his age sitting amidst its thick, twisting roots. A girl with blue hair and bright crimson eyes._

Shinji jolted, face rising from an open book. He groaned, blinking several times and distantly registering he was lying on his stomach. A weight sat on the right side of his back, not heavy, just – _something_. He tried to move and twisted to find Asuka fast asleep, using him as a pillow.

She made a soft mewling noise as he shifted, stirring from her impromptu nap. When Asuka noticed what she was laying on, she bolted upright, giving him a sour look as she rubbed sleep from the other eye. He shrugged, pretending it didn't bother him.

She was probably still holding a grudge over his jibe about the First Child. He'd just been thinking about a lot of stuff, and hadn't possessed the energy to deal with her even a little that afternoon. But maybe it wasn't that.

Something had changed. Asuka was acting different. He'd grown accustomed to her wild shifts in mood a long time ago. That was the problem; it wasn't anything like that. Over the past few weeks, she'd been quiet, thoughtful, and generally all of the things he never associated with being Asuka. Like the other day with the drawing. If anything that should have prompted a fight, or even some half-teasing taunts, but she'd just given up. Walked away, as though she were simply tired of him.

They'd made up at school. She bought his lunch and said she was sorry, but in her typical standoffish way that didn't make her sound very sorry at all. Asuka wouldn't look him in the eye either, and threw in an insult with her grumbled apology – which didn't actually involve the words "I'm sorry". That's how he knew she really meant it.

Shinji checked the watch lying next to his book – 17:16. It had been about an hour and a half since they started, and he'd made little to no progress on his homework. It was testament to just how far he'd let his grades slip this past year. Teacher had given him a scathing lecture some months ago. Truth be told, Shinji just didn't care anymore. Piloting was the only thing he was here for, so long as he kept doing that, he had a feeling no one really cared how well he did in school.

"I'm leaving for University in two weeks," Asuka said.

His head shot up, and he probably looked like a gasping fish. "What?"

She flicked hair from her face, absorbed in her work. "They're still going to have me come to NERV, but I'll be living on campus."

"Oh," he said, chewing on the eraser of his pencil. The drone of the cicadas reigned for a while as he waited for her to continue, but she just kept scrawling notes.

"How far is it?" he finally asked.

"Down south in Baden-Württemberg. Heidelberg."

He struggled to summon a mental image. Baden-Württemberg was a south-western state bordering Switzerland, nearly a six hour drive. Maybe an hour by plane. He waited for further explanation, but none came.

"Uh, which school?" he ventured, trying to ignore the growing ache in his stomach.

Her nose twitched with a sneer. "What other top Universities do you know of in Heidelberg?"

"I don't know... it was just a question."

"Look, just... stop talking, okay?" she asked quietly, almost looking him in the eyes. She didn't wait for acknowledgment, phasing him out as just another part of the scenery. He wished that didn't sting, but he indulged her anyway. If only because she'd genuinely asked it of him instead of turning it into a command.

Shinji stared down at his textbook for a while, the problems becoming incomprehensible jumbles of numbers and letters. The dream swirled about his thoughts, ripe with the orange bird flying off with a golden apple.

* * *

Those two weeks passed by in a blur of terse homework sessions, tests at NERV and monotonous days at the _Kloster_. Now he, Asuka, her parents, and Misato were pulling up to the Berlin Tegel Airport: tiered window facades stacked atop concrete platforms, a lone multi-level tower reaching high above it to preside over the runways.

Finding parking below, they made their way out of the yellow-tinged halls and up into the smooth, pristine corridors built for massive amounts of people it would never accommodate.

They picked up her ticket, transferred her luggage and passed through security. All the while Asuka hovered close to him. The air in the wide corridors was cold, but smelled fresh and echoed with a hundred voices.

All too soon they arrived at the proper concourse and it dawned on him that she was actually leaving. He felt stupid only getting anxious about it now. It just hadn't seemed real until this moment – with Asuka standing in front of the terminal, carry-on in hand.

They stood side by side near the gate. Outside the tall floor-to-ceiling windows the plane was already docked. Asuka stared down the long, narrow path leading within. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved maroon shirt for the trip. Even though they were the same height, he'd never seen her look quite so small as she did in that moment, her free hand balled tight into a fist. It was like they were little kids again.

He realized now just how little time they'd spent together before she had to leave. She'd even been given a week off from school. It was pointless for her to go there anymore – not since she was going to college. As far as he knew, she'd been home the whole time, but hadn't come by the garden. He told himself she was just busy getting ready for the move. Shinji could've gone to see her, but... no, if Asuka wanted his company, she sought it out. She would find him, like she always did. It didn't work the other way around.

The gate clerk called for boarding. A feeling of dread welled up from his gut, quivering in his chest. Asuka hesitated in front of her father who, for once, looked utterly displaced. Awkwardly, he held out his hand to her, and she took it with the same slow, half-tempered movements. It was a bit like a cat and dog trying to figure out what to do with one another. Stepping back, Asuka gave her step-mother little more than a nod, exchanging brief goodbyes and forced well-wishes with them both.

Then she turned to him, expression a mask that hid the Asuka he rarely saw underneath, betrayed by the way she bit her lower lip.

"I guess I'll, see you around," he said, all of the practiced words falling out of his head.

She shrugged, "probably not. I'm taking a lot of prep classes, and everything, so..."

"Oh, right," he said, bouncing on his heels. One of her arms reached over to grab the other. "I'll, uh, just call you then."

Asuka adjusted her bag and nodded. "Okay."

Another knotted moment melted by, and a resolution passed through her eyes. She dropped her bag and pulled him into a hug, squeezing him so tight he thought his rib-cage might snap. He hugged her back, not caring that her hair was making his nose itch or that Misato might tease him later.

Before the embrace could last for long, she pushed him away, a false smile touching her lips. "I'll see you when I come home, dork."

He tried to smile back. "Yeah."

She hefted her carry-on and waited in line as the passengers handed over their tickets. He watched her march down the ramp, quickly disappearing behind a horde of strangers.

She looked back and he waived. "Bye, Asuka!" he called. She turned away without a smile and without a word.

* * *

It was odd at first, not having Asuka around. Half the time he expected to stumble across her in the garden or for her to show up in his room. School days seemed to crawl by at a snail's pace, and the nights felt longer with his testing at NERV in the late afternoon.

Shinji figured he'd be able to see her there at some point, but that was impossible because of her schedule at University. She only flew in a few times a month for sync-testing and when she did, it was in the morning while he was at school, gone by the time he arrived in the evening.

But they texted one another frequently. She lived on campus with a NERV-assigned guardian instead of another student. She sent a lot of pictures of him, and was usually in them too – bright and smiling while clinging to his arm. He was a tall Japanese man, but young like Misato and liked to tie his long hair back in a tail. She told him his name was Kaji, and on their rare phone calls went into excited detail about their many trips around Heidelberg.

Shinji, on the other hand, didn't have much to talk about, and their conversations turned into a one-sided affair, where he mostly resorted to grunting whenever she brought up Kaji. Which was most of the time.

When Shinji complained to Misato about how he was all she ever talked about, the woman closed off from him. He realized that he must be annoying her, so their car rides became silent ventures, and he tried to keep talk to a minimum, even if she attempted to start a conversation. Maybe he was a little bitter, too.

Then she tried making their talk about NERV, but he really didn't care. Up until she yanked his phone away.

"Hey!" he snapped, then shrank back at the look on her face.

"Are you even listening to me?" she asked, brow knit. "What's gotten into you lately?"

He slumped against the seat, glaring sullenly out the window. "Nothing," he sighed.

Misato pulled over to the side of the road and threw the car into park. Sighing, she killed the engine. Darkness washed over them. He watched a minute tick by on the digital clock while she toyed with his phone in her lap.

"Look, I'm sorry, kiddo," she said, glancing over at him. Her lips pressed together. "I know you were just... trying to talk with me, and... I mean... Kaji... he was an old boyfriend, and I try not to think about him if I can help it. Okay?"

Shinji was really starting to not like this Kaji person. Misato held his phone out. "Friends?"

He stared at it for a minute, then took it back and nodded. "Okay."

After that, Misato occasionally brought him over to her flat for chocolate and overcooked rice, throwing on some cheap movie she'd picked up at the convenience store down the block. As the night progressed, more beer cans were added to her collection on the floor and he'd pretend not to notice the bras scattered about with her dirty clothes.

At home, Shinji started caring for the garden more – planting flowers, clearing out weeds, uprooting rogue trees. He told Asuka about all that, as boring as she might find it. Eventually, Mr Langley led him out to the estate's tool shed and gave him free reign. On occasion, the man came out into the cool, dewy mornings with him to tend the roses or set in new stones. They worked apart and in silence.

Day by day, Shinji waited on Asuka's calls less and less. Slowly, the gaps between texts grew longer too.

He found himself thinking of Erika again too. He'd managed to forget about her for a while, despite seeing her every now and then at school. Recently he'd spotted her latched to the arm of some brown-haired boy. She avoided his eyes, pretending he wasn't there, while the boy caught him staring after her and sent him a smarmy smile and a wink. That's when he realized it was Günter, and started entertaining fantasies of crushing his pearly teeth in.

It wasn't long before he started to look forward to tests at NERV. If only to be away from the garden and the _Kloster_.

"You miss her, don't you?" Misato asked.

Her voice tore his mind back to the present, where he stood near the Testing Chambers. He held back a grimace. She must have seen him staring at Asuka's simulation Eva.

"Not really." It sounded unconvincing, even to him. The echoing void of the corridor settled between them, muffled words from the control room slipping through.

"I have to go back to Headquarters again," she said. He shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

When he didn't respond, she fidgeted. "I won't be gone very long... hey, look at me," she reached out, a finger nudging his chin. He knocked it away.

" _Fine_ ," she sighed, boots clacking along the grated floor as she left his side for the control booth. The test flew by that night and soon he was back home, politely greeting Teacher as he padded to his room.

On the chair he used for cello practice was Misato's red beret, hanging off the back rest. He batted the thing to the floor and sat, long minutes spent with his hands balled atop his knees. His gaze found the cello case on the floor – and without remembering taking it out, he was tightening the pegs and testing the notes.

The humming chords became a nightly ritual. It made him think of his and Asuka's old practice sessions with Hanover. She played the violin, or she used to. He couldn't be sure if she still played now. They hadn't talked in a few weeks, and he never really knew what she actually did at University outside of her courses. If there was ever anything she did _without_ Kaji. His last few responses had been simple or one-worded.

In the following days he received a special summons. Another letter with the red fig leaf NERV liked to use. He knew then that it was from his father. It took him an hour to work up the courage to open it. As before, it was an artificial message, informing him he was to meet the Commander at the Old Tokyo Burial Grounds in one week for the anniversary of his mother's death.

Misato came back right around then. It hadn't been long before he found himself wishing he'd said goodbye. He could never manage to stay mad at her for long.

His sync-test scores continued to rise as normal, fluctuating by a point or two every week. According to Moskva it wouldn't be long before he surpassed Asuka. He thought of telling her, wondering if she'd stop talking to him altogether if she knew. She'd always coveted the spotlight as the top pilot. Maybe she'd already found out. But he couldn't ask her if that was the case. More and more he felt like there wasn't much he could actually talk to her about.

Teacher gave up hounding him on his lessons, sparing him little more than a disappointed frown while reading his report cards at the dinner table. Soon, Shinji dedicated himself completely to improving his sync-rates, much to Moskva's glowing satisfaction. A word he thought he'd never use with her. His life outside the base became increasingly quiet, muted even. He stopped seeing his old friends by the vending machines, and rarely spent a moment apart from his SDAT.

* * *

It wasn't that Shinji was unfamiliar with crying. In fact, he was probably a closer acquaintance to it than most, the exception this time being that he wasn't the one shedding tears. He simply couldn't stand the sound of someone else breaking – crumbling under whatever pressure they tried to keep bottled up inside. The girl certainly wasn't crying because of him, leaning against the side of Building A while her shoulders shook with quiet sobs. It took a lot to do that to someone.

So it shouldn't have been surprising that he was thinking of turning back the other way and just forgetting about it. Even as he considered this course of action, Shinji found that his feet were cemented to the spot. He had lingered too long, giving the guilt a chance to wriggle into his veins and fester under his skin. Maybe it was something else, though. A nebulous, black thought lingering just beyond the scope of his consciousness. A simple, yet unshakable need for something he couldn't give a name to, let alone a reason.

"Erika?" he asked, glad his voice didn't shake, but swallowing just in case the golfball-sized lump in his throat was actually choking him. Turning away, she didn't answer, a hand pushing blonde locks from her face. She sniffed and wiped tears from her red eyes.

Shinji cast a glance in the direction of the main courtyard, catching students making their way back to class before the after lunch bell rang. "Are... you okay?"

"Why do _you_ care?" she snapped, even a baleful glare failing to disguise her hurt. As if making some subconscious effort to escape, his right foot took a step towards the courtyard.

Shifting his schoolbag, he fixed his eyes on her shoes and asked, "Where's Günter?"

The tears had stopped flowing and her hands folded behind her back, a few pitiable sniffs sounding as she stared at the ground. "He broke up with me."

Shinji imagined saying words that were deep and meaningful, thought of somehow lifting her spirits, assuaging his guilt at even considering the idea of walking the other way.

"Oh," he said.

The cicadas screamed, clouds fleeing the rays of the sun and letting them spill over the _Kloster_. Erika was caught in the shade of the building while his dark uniform soaked up every ounce of heat, sweat starting to form as his skin baked. He stepped closer until he was covered beneath the thick shadow too. The brick was cool as he leaned his back against it.

"You're going to be late for the bell," Erika said, still staring at the bed of white rocks beneath them.

"It's fine. I don't really care."

The bustle of students faded, peace reigning over the schoolyard again. Brakes squealed down the road from the _Kloster_ , hundreds of vehicles passing through Berlin echoing to them as nothing but a dull roar. Shinji jumped when the bell finally sounded, his fate in Headmistress Bayern's office sealed.

"Where's Asuka?" Erika asked, straightening her skirt as she sat. High above them the clouds moved to cover the sun, which was doing its best to scorch through again.

"She left for university in Heidelberg."

Her eyes bulged. "But she's only eleven!"

"Yeah..." he forced a chuckle. "She's pretty smart."

When the quiet came again, sapping his lasting will to potentially leave, he sat down next to her, their shoulders and knees separated by scant inches. He tried, for minutes that moved as slow as the purposeless clouds above, to think of something to say or talk about. At the very least, Erika wasn't crying anymore.

What should he do now?

A sneeze echoed along the shade, drawing two pairs of eyes down the length of brick, where the tail end of a black jacket stuck out from the wall.

"Swina? Is that you?" Erika asked, standing. The figure flinched and, shoulders drooping, came out from around the corner. Shinji blinked once, then twice at the sight of his old bully Scharnhorst.

Erika's head quirked. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same," Swina mumbled, sullen as his eyes fixed on Shinji.

They shared a glance, then she asked, "Are you gonna' tell on us?"

He shrugged, looking off towards the main building. Shinji's eyebrows dipped and he imagined his fist sinking into the boy's cheek. While he wasn't one of the kids that had beaten him up, he might as well have.

Erika settled in the bed of rocks again. "Well, you'll only get in trouble anyway if you go back to class now, you might as well sit with us."

Shinji's anger evaporated, heart sinking at the very suggestion. Those eyes of hers were focused on Swina, waiting for an answer. The boy swayed on the balls of his heels and Shinji thought he might topple over at any moment. Without so much as a word, Swina crunched along the rocks and planted himself down on the other side of Erika. As the boy sat, she cast Shinji a glance and there was something mischievous in her eyes as they flitted between them.

"Hey, you two aren't friends, right?"

Shinji fought to keep his expression neutral, but a scowl jerked free anyway. "He called me a slant-eye."

Erika grabbed Swina's right arm by the wrist, then Shinji's. It was so sudden neither of them could pull away before she had their hands hovering a few inches apart.

"Shake hands," she said, making it sound like a friendly suggestion instead of an order. She let go of their wrists and the two boys shared a hard stare. Shinji thought of Erika crying earlier, wondering if it would make her sad again if he refused. He snatched Swina's hand and the boy jerked. Once he realized he wasn't about to be mauled, he became resolute, larger fingers squeezing back. Neither of them really shook, holding their grip as tight as possible instead. They didn't loosen for a long minute. To do so might be a sign of weakness. Eventually, through some unspoken means only known to boys, they each decided to let go at the same time.

"There," Erika said, triumphant. "That means you can't fight. You made an agreement to be friends."

It was that simple for her. The three of them missed class for the rest of the day, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. It was nice when, over the next few hours, Erika was laughing.

For a little while, Shinji was able to forget that tomorrow he wasn't allowed to be twelve years old anymore. He would have to be grown up again, because tomorrow he was going to see his mother and father.

* * *

 **A/N** : Just one more chapter to go before the conclusion of the Childhood Arc and our introduction to the Angel War Arc. I'm pretty excited to start writing the latter after building up all of this history, but really I just wanted to thank everyone for the reviews and such - your feedback has been a big help.


	10. Act I - Chapter 10: Scorched

**Chapter 10: Scorched**

* * *

If Shinji squinted from the graveyard visitor's hub – planted where the town of Isesaki once stood – he could just barely make out the water-filled crater from the nuclear bomb dropped twelve years ago. From Takasaki and all the way to the flooded coast, nothing remained of Old Tokyo but rolling swells of dry, orange earth. Firestorms from the blast had consumed everything within reach. Rampant flames burned for weeks while Japan's shell-shocked rescue teams struggled to put them out, resulting in thousands of casualties atop the 30 million already suffered.

A part of him couldn't help but think it was appropriate that the graveyard dedicated to the lives snuffed out during and after Second Impact would also be at the edges of the old capital. A more real reminder of the tragedy than any memorial would've been. It was far from the epicenter and any actual risk of exposure to radiation, or so he had been told. There was no point in using the land for anything else, half-flooded and decaying. The living had become a part of it, their ashes meshed with the arid soil.

Misato tugged at the shoulders of Shinji's school uniform jacket, straightening his tie a little too. He would've protested, perhaps grumbled a little, but even that seemed like an exhaustive effort today.

"Stand tall," she said, trying to catch his eyes, "she'll be watching today."

His brow bent. "I know."

They ventured out into the dusty plains. Winds howled across the scorched hills, lined with row upon row of perfectly spaced grave markers. Each rank and file was alphabetically ordered, and the walk to his mother's marker took thirty minutes.

The crunching of dirt alongside his own ceased, which made him turn. Misato had come to a halt just a few feet away. At his silent askance, she nodded him forward. He would have to go on alone.

Beyond, he spotted what could only be his father as a wavy, black pillar on the horizon. The man watched him through a pair of tinted glasses, a stone-gray VTOL gunship sitting in the space between graves. That seemed disrespectful somehow, even though he knew only a small percentage of them actually held bodies.

A tension pulled on his gut, pressed down on his shoulders and weighed in his feet. What should he say? What should he talk about? Would his father be happy to see him? Had Shinji been missed at all in the years he'd been away? These fears still stuck with him, inhabited his every thought, even when Asuka had been around to distract him.

It wasn't long before he was on the hill, standing in his father's shadow and peering up into those sunken, subdued orange-brown eyes. They were _sanpaku_ eyes: where one could see the white space beneath the irises, lending his stare a stark intensity. He was taller than the image in Shinji's memory, and the straight back and sharp edged shoulders of his dark uniform exuded a sense of authority. Even left unbuttoned as it was and lacking any formal rank insignia.

Something blossomed in Shinji then, embers spurred on by a thought half torn and abandoned.

"Hello, father."

"Shinji," the elder Ikari said, voice like gravel. That stare lingered but a moment longer and his father turned, facing the obsidian plaque that rose to his waist.

 _Ikari Yui_.

Shinji saw his reflection looking down on the name. The date of birth and death rested under it, nothing else left to give credence to her existence. If it wasn't for this slab of glossy rock, Shinji wouldn't have believed she was ever real. His head dipped, running the math in his head.

Twenty-seven.

His mother had been twenty-seven when she died. Without being sure why, he took comfort in that insignificant number. It allowed an image of her to form. Countless times he'd tried to imagine her, with nothing but faded memories to build off of. He thought of someone like Misato, but with brown hair and blue eyes like his – a soft smile and waiting arms.

"I still don't understand what happened to her," Shinji said, unsure of whether or not his father was merely an apparition, partially convinced he was just talking to himself amidst the gravestones. "Teacher told me... there was an accident in the lab you worked at."

The screaming winds cut between them, making his father's unbuttoned jacket flap. "You thought that I had killed her," he said, never looking up from the black marker.

Had he? Shinji couldn't remember. No one ever told him what she was doing or what had caused the accident. One day she was just gone.

What was she like? Had she drank tea like Teacher? Or maybe she preferred coffee like the Langley's? Was she a decent cook? Would she have enjoyed the flowers in his garden? Or the sunlight skittering across the ponds? Did she have any boyfriends when she went to college? Where did she go to college? Would she have liked that he and Asuka were friends?

"It doesn't feel like eight years," Shinji mumbled when it became clear his father had nothing more to say. They stood for a while longer, two feet apart, boring holes into a false tomb.

"Unit-01 is nearly complete," his father said, just when the echoing graveyard became too much to bear. "You will be leaving for Tokyo-3 in three weeks time."

It was a sledgehammer to his lungs and for just a second – he really couldn't breathe.

"Three weeks?" he asked, the question almost swept away in the wind.

"As per the orders you were given five years ago."

A fire gripped him. Surged up his spine and spider-webbed over his nerves in hot pulses. "I want to stay in Germany," he said.

From his father, there wasn't a pause or a glance. "That is irrelevant. You will do as ordered."

"Or what?" Shinji bit out through grit teeth, hands gripped tight enough to hurt. His father turned halfway, regarding him with stony, unwavering eyes. It wasn't that they were cold – if anything they made the burning in his chest all that more real. No, it was something else, something Shinji had learned to see in others without even realizing it. A look that was somehow divorced from reality – from feeling.

"You will receive proper deployment papers in the next forty-eight hours," Gendo said, hesitating a moment longer, before taking his leave. The VTOL's turbines whined. Shinji watched it roar off, until it was just a little gray speck fading into blue on the horizon. Somewhere over the mountains was Tokyo-3, he'd seen it on the flight in. Over there was his Eva and the First Child.

And he was being left behind again.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He was taken by a current and resisted the violent urges that rushed over his thoughts, if nothing else than because of the emptiness around him. The dead and their markers watched on, apathetic.

The walk back to Misato's parked rental took no time at all. Not with his mind whirling. He was thankful when she didn't press him, or really talk at all, even though he wanted to explode. He didn't want to talk.

The flight back took twelve hours. They landed in Munich, where a NERV gunship took them up to the landing pads just outside the black pyramid in Berlin. Then he was home. By then, he had calmed some, even though it was taking all of his willpower to keep down the in-flight meals churning in his stomach.

Through the trellised paths, he came to his small Japanese hut, dark with Teacher's absence. He must have been out buying groceries. Only silence greeted him in his room. Not even the wind chimes sang.

Placed atop his desk was a letter and he quirked his head at that. No one but Ilka wrote him and he'd received and replied to a letter from her less than a week ago already. Picking it up, he discovered his name signed in Asuka's elegant cursive script – punctuated by a tiny heart. They hadn't talked in over a month now, and neither really had the time to even send texts. Well, he had time, but why bother sending a message that had a 50/50 chance of not getting a response? Shinji had gotten tired of that pretty quick.

After another moment's hesitation, Shinji tossed it in the nearby trash bin. His legs carried him only a few steps before it tugged at him and he stopped. Marching back, he snatched it out of the trash, a few new questionable stains marring it. He still didn't want to read it, and found a drawer to throw it in.

Later that night, he settled amid that old, overgrown husk of a shed at the edge of the dandelion field. It had seemed so much larger when he was little – he almost felt too big for it now. The stars were dim that night, and Shinji lay there, rolling his father's words over and over in his mind. Thomas Anders poured through his ears from the SDAT resting on his chest.

Asuka called him something along the lines of 'shut-in hipster' whenever she caught him with it plugged in. A smirk tried to break free, but faltered. He remembered they used to sink their legs in the fountain by the roses, sharing the ear-buds side by side. How she'd gently bounce her head side to side and mouth the words every time track 22 came on, her favorite. Mika Matsubara – _stay with me_.

The cassette clicked, switching to the next track. It was the same player his father had once held. Listened to on quiet nights. Picking it up, he examined it under the moonlight wondering – like he'd always done – why the man had ever given it to him. The answers he'd thought were real and true had been shattered.

Its frame creaked as Shinji squeezed, the black box resisting him, knowing he wasn't strong enough to break it.

"I hate you _._ "

* * *

Friendship with Erika and Swina was strange.

The former was playful and girlish in a way that he didn't understand at all, which was as exciting as it was perplexing. While the latter almost became a shadow, a companion at his shoulder everywhere he went – which didn't seem at all unnatural.

They met at the brick wall of Building A everyday. School was just a suggestion now, a worthless notion that one would smile politely at while disregarding everything that was said. They often went down the street to the convenience store, where Erika looked at him with those pretty eyes and smiled, wordlessly enticing euros from his pockets in exchange for the vanilla ice cream cones she loved so much. Swina mostly bought, and sometimes stole, smoked jerky. He taught Shinji how to spot the cameras and how to move so anyone looking in the mirrors couldn't tell you'd stolen anything. They usually left with their jacket pockets stuffed full.

Shinji felt guilty every time, but tried not to think about it much.

The boy was also fond of American country music, and once shared an album from his ipod. Shinji didn't like it, but he didn't hate it either. Swina said he really wanted to be a singer, but his parents absolutely hated the idea. Wouldn't even let him get a guitar. His father wanted him to be a paralegal. The boy had his coarse, reddish brown hair grown out down to his shoulders, which he brushed back over his head whenever it got in his face.

Shinji could almost see him strumming a guitar in a smoke filled bar.

Most weekends they'd take the S-bahn to the Tiergarten, right in the heart of the city. Autumn was beginning to sweep over northern Germany, sapping the life from the leaves and bleeding them gold. Carpets of red and yellow covered every walkway and created patchwork swells of color across the lakes. Chilling winds swept them up in whirlwinds while they walked, as though playful. Erika yelped when it threw her hair up and fought with her skirt. It made Shinji's hair a mess too, keeping it standing on end. Erika giggled and Swina bowled over laughing.

Here they made trouble wherever they could find it, whether it was harassing the boat-people living on the Landwehr Canal, or hanging off the fencing by the Spree and chucking rocks at the tourist cruisers. At least until an officer or someone else hollered at them. Other times they'd find the monuments and statues scattered about and strike a pose while someone took a picture. Shinji hanging off Otto von Bismark's leg. Erika lounging on a lion. Swina sitting in Wagner's lap like it were a throne.

When Erika wasn't around, and when they didn't seem to be competing to make her laugh, he and Swina crossed through the concrete coffins of the Murdered Jews Memorial, a pristine and ordered concrete barrier reef between them and Mitte. The stones rose and fell like waves, sometimes reaching high enough to consume them in their cold forest, the red of the setting sun creeping over the edges.

From Mitte they crossed to the north of the Spree, where the police mustered in heavy-plated black riot gear. They came in armored trucks and bullet proof vans. Hot, stinking crowds of people had been gathering there to riot – and the two boys came to watch, unsure of what there was to protest. They took the opportunity to buy fishing string and found empty cans, tying them to the underside of cars. When the rioters got tired of rioting, Swina and Shinji hid nearby, watching the drivers begin to roll off – and freak out when the cans dropped from the bottom!

Other days they traveled along the Spree to the west, where it was covered for miles with graffiti. Tagged relentlessly by the youth gangs that littered the market places.

"The West and the East are the same now," Swina hummed, dragging a stick along the stones. "That's what my da' said. Now everyone is poor."

"Doesn't seem that way." Shinji said, a wind prompting him to shove his hands in his jacket. "How would he know everyone's poor?"

"He doesn't. My da' likes to think he knows everything. But I think the city used to look nicer than this."

"Has there always been a difference?"

Swina shrugged. "Probably not."

His father had been born and raised in East Berlin. Said he was just fourteen when the wall had been knocked down. Swina said his family was pretty poor, but that his dad managed a power plant in Jänschwalde. Drove two hours every day there and back. No one at the Kloster really cared if you were from the west or east side of the city, but some just called Swina "Easterner" since he was one of a handful that could actually afford to attend.

Erika never talked about home or her parents, which was fine with Swina, who always had something to complain about. They were both fine with that. Every now and then Shinji would find his inner smartass and rib Swina while he was in the middle of a story. Erika would slap his leg or push him and chide him. She made a habit of this, over the smallest of things – like how he ate his Chinese takeout, or when the heels of his shoes scraped the ground as he walked. He shrugged her off with a practiced ease developed over years of friendship with the Nag of All Nags, and egged her on. It was all just a game, and even though they didn't know the rules, at least they knew one another was playing.

Today they sat beneath shady trees, knees a few inches apart. Swina was off down the street, trying to convince the food vendor he was a homeless child and needed to feed his sister. They'd helped rip up and dirty his clothes some to make it convincing. Shinji and Erika waited between a pair of statues, the grass lime green and painted with swathes of amber. The one closest to Shinji had two dogs – their fur as thick as a wolf's – running under the whip of a man in old sixteenth century clothes. The kind with those funny triangle hats. He pointed down at Shinji.

"I wonder why they only hunt foxes?" Erika asked. He followed her gaze to the other statue, depicting a man holding a dead fox up by the scruff of its neck, dogs nipping at its dangling feet.

Shinji shrugged. "I don't know. I think it's because they're pretty smart, so they're harder to catch."

"Hm, that sounds right," she said, pursing her flesh-pink lips. "I think my Uncle said they hunt bobcats in America."

"What's a bobcat?"

"They're like lions, but smaller, and with spots."

He paused and looked up to the sky. "So wouldn't they be more like a cheetah?"

"Whatever! You know what I mean!"

"Well now I don't know if it looks more like a lion or a cheetah."

"Oh my gosh! It looks like both," she whined, but with a smile.

They could hear the sounds of the city all around, muffled, as though coming from miles and miles away. The blare of a train's horn, the dull hum of traffic. Somewhere, a church bell tolled. The park was insular, sheltered in its own world like the garden back home.

"So if you ever caught a fox, would you kill it?" Erika asked, taking the band from her ponytail. Blonde locks flowed around her neck.

"Isn't that why people hunt stuff?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to."

Shinji leaned back. "Probably not, then." he wasn't really thinking about it, finding it hard to keep his eyes from her face, or how soft her lips looked.

"What if by killing it, you got a wish? Like, you don't have to do anything but shoot it, and you could have anything you ever wanted. Would you do it then?"

"How would killing a fox do that?" he asked, sitting straight. Hypotheticals were one of her favorite things, but he didn't have much patience for her what ifs.

"It's a magic fox."

"Okay, but why?"

"It just is. So would you? What would you wish for?" she asked. Those crystal blue eyes peered into him, searching.

He decided to look at the pond instead. "I don't know..."

Why would she ask him something like that? So adamantly too? The more he thought of it, sinking into the depths of the nature around them, the less he came up with to wish for. There were things he wanted, but when it really came down to it, he didn't know that he wished for anything. Maybe of never having to leave Germany. Maybe finally getting to pilot his Eva. Or... or having Asuka back at the garden. Part of him thought he'd like that, but with it came a surge of other thoughts and feelings. All like a knotted, black jumble of cords wrapping tight around him.

He stopped thinking about her, made himself fret over school or the next sync test. Brooding. Still, maybe there was something else he wanted – really would give anything for again. The memory of his mother's grave marker came.

Shinji found he liked dwelling on that even less.

Erika broke the silence, legs held up to her chest and ankles crossed. "If it meant I could be different, I think I'd kill the fox."

That startled him, and he took a moment to stare at her, occupied by the twittering birds in the trees. She was always so happy – why would she want to change anything? He looked up too. The branches creaked, bright leaves shuffling. A softness crept over his hand, warm. He jerked, but didn't pull away when he saw her hand over his. There was an instant where he debated what to do next, where the bounding of his heart just about convinced his fight to take flight. His fingers folded with hers.

"My dad used to hunt," she said, facing away from him. The tips of her ears were red, like they always got whenever he was close to her. "Not foxes... it was, deer, I think... or, um–"

Thoughts like sparks flared in his mind, fixated on her hand with his. Shinji found himself closer to her, only a breath away. She looked his way again and he froze as her eyes studied him. Her lips nearly brushed his – and she turned, utterly crimson. A punch of anger and embarrassment crashed through him.

For an awful few seconds, every impulse in him screamed to leave and escape his humiliation. For a second, he even hated her. But he continued to lean in anyway, just as she whirled back to plant her lips on his. Except their teeth ended up knocking together. They bumped off one another, each with a hand up to their mouth. Then they tried again, slower this time. Made just as awkward as they both tried to figure out which side to put their head on. He screwed his eyes shut as their lips closed – realizing he didn't actually know what to do. She must've kissed before, because she moved her mouth a little, even when all he really did was press his lips harder to hers. It was wet, more than he'd ever imagined. A bit of spittle still clung between them when they decided they'd done it long enough. He supposed it was nice – why did adults do that so much?

She wiped a sleeve across her face, cheeks red enough to burn, while he rubbed a back hand over his mouth. For a while, neither could meet the other's eyes.

Soon, Swina came back, a powder-loaded funnel cake in his hands. He greeted them with a big grin, boasting his silver-tongued talents in a rush of detail. Shinji noticed his hands were shaking as he passed them the plate.

* * *

Two weeks left.

Shinji had since received the orders his father promised. Just the sight of the NERV stamp had his breakfast ready to tumble all over the floor.

Two weeks.

And he still hadn't told Erika. He was just delaying the inevitable, he knew, which was becoming harder and harder to face in his mind. Especially after they'd held hands and kissed. He didn't know why, but the memory burned him. Had him angry over nothing and for no good reason. She'd been calling and texting him too, but he felt less and less like answering as his confusion grew and compounded into frustration.

He liked her, or he thought he did. They'd kissed, after all. On their brief train ride home that night, she'd sat close enough for their thighs to touch, and even fell asleep on his shoulder. Swina sat away and pretended to be asleep. Shinji knew because he always snored whenever he fell asleep.

Still, as many times as Shinji wished he could take it back, and mentally bludgeoned himself a dozen times a day, Erika seemed to like him too. He thought about kissing her again, wondering if it would feel different a second time. He'd probably done it all wrong.

Shinji groaned, wishing he hadn't left his SDAT back home. He hated thinking about it so much, and he didn't want to with Asuka in town. It should've been a good distraction, but it wasn't – every muscle in his chest was wound tight to snapping.

Today was German Unity Day and Asuka had come back home for an extended stay. Currently, he was waiting in the car, his imagination torturing him every minute of the ride with possibilities of an angry or hurtful confrontation, riddled with a festering guilt.

It was well into the afternoon by the time they went, rolling into the thriving vibrancy of Berlin. Even Teacher was going, claiming it was for the sake of being cordial. They'd gathered in the foyer of the house, waiting for Ilka and Margaret to come down stairs. Shinji had protested going, even considered feigning sickness. Well, he started by saying he wasn't feeling well, wishing Margaret were there instead of Langley. That way she might have taken pity on him and convinced the man to let him stay, that Asuka probably wouldn't mind.

But she wasn't, and Langley nodded, mulling over a thoughtful grimace. "You know, if a soldier at Hohenfels is caught lying to avoid drills – we make him sweep the sunshine off the sidewalks." he paused and a smirk spread across his face. "Takes them all day."

It took Shinji a second to get it, and a deep laugh rolled from Langley when it clicked. He must've been in a good mood. Shinji had only seen him openly laugh maybe one or two times before. The man soon became serious again, fixing the tie of his suit. "Even if you are sick, Asuka insisted that we bring you. Seems you're out of luck."

He really was. If it was something Asuka wanted, then there definitely wasn't any getting out of it. The world faded to a painted blur, his brain on auto-pilot, trying to decipher why Asuka couldn't have informed him of that herself. He hadn't seen her once since she'd arrived earlier that morning.

His phone buzzed and he peered at the screen. A message from Erika.

 _I don't know why you won't answer, but me and Swina are going to the Gate tonight. If you want to see me._

His fingers hovered over the screen, but what was he supposed to say? There was too much to explain, too much he didn't want to talk about. Erika had texted him a few times to see if he was going, but he hadn't answered, knowing he was probably hurting her feelings. He could feel the desperation behind it. The worry.

Was he a bad person?

What should he do?

They found parking in a garage by the Landwehr and they had to walk a ways up to the Postdamer Platz road. It was hard on grandma Ilka's legs, so Shinji let her hold onto his arm as they walked.

The festival had been going on for three days and tonight was the last night. Police were out in force, practically lining the main road to the Brandenburg Gate. They'd marked out where the wall had once been, and the place was frothing with a blurring mass of color and voices. Black, red and yellow bars sailed over a sea of heads, hundreds of flags billowing and swaying with the waves.

All down the Bundesstrasse road were carnival rides and food tents, catering far too many dishes to smell all at once. Sweet swirling toffee and caramels from powdered cookies and jelly filled cakes, their compounds glowing honey and gold. They mingled pleasantly with the flowery sweet and spice rich scents of charred meats and fresh soups, wafting over from pavilions with massive hanging grills hooked to the middle. Which were packed with every kind of sausage, steak and hamburger known to man.

Langley was in dress uniform tonight – what he wore to all formal occasions. Blue trousers and dark coat, topped with a black beret. Commendations sat proudly on his left breast, a cobalt tassel wrapping under his right arm. The uniform itself seemed a bit worn for wear: color faded and with a few stitches out of place at the sleeves and underneath the golden buttons. Shinji briefly wondered if he'd ever thought of getting a new one.

He soon lost sight of the man and Margaret as they stopped to talk with other men that must've been with his unit – garbed in the dress grays of German soldiers. That left him with an estranged aunt and uncle, and their college attending children. None of them were as young as Asuka.

Shinji had yet to see her, but didn't want to ask anyone if they'd be meeting up somewhere. The more they walked, the more of their entourage that fell away. Lost in the crowds.

There were actual snowfalls of confetti as the night went on. He could see the pipes shooting out an endless stream of them. Ilka bought him bits of pretzels striped with caramel. By then it was just the two of them and Teacher. The night had come on in full and people occupied every stretch of road.

They were close to the Gate, glowing orbs marking where the wall had stood in a wide ring around it, once claimed like a trophy by the Eastern conquerors. Teacher watched, unphased by the excitement, and Ilka had tears coming to the corners of her eyes, though wouldn't share whatever sweet memory she was reliving. Shinji found himself searching for Asuka, even though there was no way he could possibly spot her among so many people. But he did.

She was standing by the border, next to her dad and step-mom, except there was a good three feet separating them. She watched the fireworks burst over the gate, pensive. Splashes of red and blue painted her face. The thought to call out to her crossed his mind, but she wouldn't have heard him. Not with tens of thousands singing the national anthem in one echoing voice.

"Flourish in the radiance of this happiness!"

"Flourish, German fatherland!"

* * *

Shinji got up earlier than usual for school.

Asuka would be sleeping in until ten at least, and he'd be well into some boring lesson at the Kloster, or outside the chapel with Swina. Today turned out to be the latter. His friend had been acting weird, which was a smaller part of the reason Shinji had been less inclined to hang out the past few days, due in no small part to Swina's absence at the canals. Or how he'd stopped taking to following Shinji around, talking up whatever new tricks he wanted to try on the poor, unsuspecting citizens in the city. Whatever it was, Shinji hoped he was over it.

They met by the big oak outside the chapel. Erika was stuck in English class and Swina watched him as he approached. "Where have you been?"

He shrugged. "Busy."

Swina shrugged back, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he turned and started walking. "Erika was just wondering. She's always bringing you up now."

Shinji just grunted, eager to change the subject. "So what's this about Luitpold?" he asked, referencing their chapel priest. Swina mentioned by text they should try and sneak inside, but hadn't elaborated on how.

Time ticked by and Swina didn't respond. Then he came to a stop, regarding Shinji as one might a ghost. "Why did you kiss her?"

Shinji glared at him, cheeks boiled red. "You saw?"

Swina made something of a grimace, then another shrug.

Shinji chewed on the inside of his cheek. Could Swina had liked Erika too? He had sort of suspected it, but had never considered the idea in a thoughtful manner. It was always on the periphery. Undertones to how they spoke and how they acted when Erika was between them.

"I dunno... I just did," he said, not willing to even tug at the tangled thread that was his feelings for her.

A shadow of resentment fell over Swina, but he nodded. "Someone's been leaving the back door to the chapel open. I think it's Sister Maria. She always forgets stuff like that. We're going to see if she left it today."

As much as Shinji liked the chapel sisters, the idea of being somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, and doing what he wanted – was exciting.

The courtyards leading up to the chapel were tightly packed, surrounded on all sides as they were by other buildings of the Kloster's large campus. It widened to an open field as they went out back, where Shinji had earned his fair share of cuts and bruises on the playgrounds.

"Are you sure no one's going to see us?" Shinji asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Swina was still ahead. "Everyone is busy with classes right now and the sisters have gone home. No one will see us."

Shinji's eyes squinched. Swina didn't talk like that. Maybe he shouldn't have come at all if his friend was going to act so weird. Caught up in his thoughts, Shinji didn't really notice as they came around the back of the church, where this side of the school's bike rack was set up. Wide enough on all sides to fit far more than it needed. Most of the racks were empty. But it led right up to the back door of the chapel. If he remembered right, it would lead them to the hallway just behind the altar.

The only problem was that there was already another boy sitting on the steps. Shinji was about to tell Swina they should go and try again, when he took a good look at who it was.

Günter stood as they stopped amidst the rows of metal racks, shaking his head to clear the hair from his face. Shinji glared, heart racing, and was about to turn – when chainlinks crashed together, a pair of the usual goons having just closed the fence leading out, now standing guard before it. On his left, two more rose from behind a row of bikes, faces stony, by eyes amused.

"Thanks Scharnhorst," Günter said, coming down the steps and taking his hands out of his pockets. Swina didn't say anything as he clapped him on the shoulder.

Shinji's lungs were practically in his throat, fear lancing through every nerve. Weissenburg had taught him how to control that, how to tune it out. But he couldn't manage. He'd never had to test all those lessons before, and Günter never fought unless the odds were in his favor. Five to one was never a winning scenario for anyone, except maybe Alexander the Great. But Shinji didn't have a few thousand pikemen at his back. All he could do was stare at Swina, trying to find some explanation, some hint of what he had done so wrong to deserve this.

"I thought we were friends, Swina," he said. The boy flinched and looked away. He'd already chosen his friends.

"He's not friends with a _Japse_." Günter said, "nobody's your friend here."

Shinji knew he was wrong, but the words hit him harder than any stone or fist. Caged up and surrounded by enemies. One of whom he'd trusted. That was always the issue, wasn't it? How did he always let this happen? With Günter, it was different. They'd been scraping ever since he was seven, and Shinji had given up a long time ago trying to understand why the other boy hated him so much. He'd never wanted to come to Germany and attend its schools or learn its language. Other people had made him do that. They made him fight and told him he was supposed to save the world from something.

He never wanted any of that.

Shinji's defeat must've shown, because Günter smirked and stepped in to deliver a punch. Shinji moved on reflex, but too late. Günter's knuckles slammed his lower lip into his teeth – drawing blood. Staggering, Shinji still managed to catch his wrist. Dismay flashed over the other boy's expression, just for a moment. It threw him off balance enough for Shinji to pull him into his outstretched elbow, face first. Flesh crunched and the two of them fumbled steps as Shinji twisted him around, bending his arm up against his back. Günter had time to shout before Shinji, stumbling, pitched him down at the bar of a bike rack. The metal reverberated with the impact of his head and Günter was on the ground, dazed.

A rush of movement came from behind. Shinji half turned, bending his knees and drawing his arm in. He rammed an elbow into the gut of another boy as he stepped into the charge. His attacker doubled over, but kept his footing, and Shinji struggled shoving him away.

He couldn't feel anything after that, adrenaline pulsing hard. It was like his mind went blank – total darkness. His body didn't belong to him, driven by a melting heat that phased out every real and rational thought. Possessed.

Shinji took two long strides and lunged for Günter, turning him over and straddling his chest. The boy threw desperate, sloppy punches, teeth grit. Shinji slammed his fist down on Günter's nose, making him scream. The second sank into his cheek – impact shuddering through his arm. It felt good, and Shinji found that he couldn't stop. Didn't _want_ to stop. Hammering down again and again and again – each blow more vicious than the last. Each more feral and desperate and wild for blood.

Distantly, Shinji knew he was pounding his knuckles raw–

A wet crunch snapped the air.

Shinji stopped.

Hot, sticky blood dripped from his fingers, arm half raised for another hit. It spattered on Günter's neck and chin, streaks of red rolling down his neck. Shinji's breath came out in ragged gasps, and a sickness swelled in his stomach. Günter's left cheek didn't look right, pushing up into his eye, which was hidden by split and hemorrhaging tissue. His flesh was bulbous and black in places, lips puffy, nose crooked.

For a terrible, gut ripping moment, Günter didn't move.

A cough jerked his chest. Then another, and he whimpered, head rolling to the side. Shinji blinked, and realized he couldn't see out of his left eye, blood seeping from a ripping gash he didn't remember receiving. On his right, a gangly boy stood with a wooden pole in his hand, only half raised in a lax grip.

At some point, he must have managed a grazing hit, failing a second attempt when he realized the blow hadn't deterred Shinji in the slightest. Weissenburg had told him people could do things, unbelievable things, when they had enough adrenaline moving through them. Could even ignore pain from crippling wounds. It was lucky he hadn't been hit in the temple or back, otherwise he'd have been out cold.

Everyone was frozen in place, horror stricken from the sheer tenacity and hate behind his violence. They didn't even think of taking a step, or uttering a word, until Shinji crawled off of Günter, still panting. Feeling all of the fatigue and hurt roll into him. He probably had a concussion. The boys rushed to Günter, all shouting in a panic. One of them fumbled for their phone, another hesitating with his hands over Günter's face, utterly helpless. The gangly one dropped the pole and ran off around the corner, calling for help.

Feet shuffled to him, Swina's hands latching tentatively around one of Shinji's arms. His head burned and he launched himself up, shoving Swina hard. " _Get away from me_ ," he snarled, staggering back from weak legs. The fear in Scharnhorst's wide-eyes stung him.

Two of Günter's friends tried helping him to his feet, a third boy of brown hair and green eyes, unable to lend a hand, stared at Shinji, looking lost. "What did you do?" he asked, not understanding the question himself.

Shinji slowly, steadily, got up and walked out of the bike cage. Bleeding fist tucked against his stomach, he leaned on the wall at the corner of the chapel for support. But didn't make it very far before pitching forward and throwing up.

* * *

Herr Langley arrived an hour later to pick him up. Shinji's head had been bandaged by a disturbed looking Sister Maria, her movements hesitating and her sentences short and halting, as though he were more like a dangerously delicate explosive than a bloodied boy. She gave him pain relievers for the headache. Then he was sat outside the Headmistress' office, a police officer at his side. The man seemed uneasy over the whole situation, calming some when he and Langley spoke off to the side. He was in his olive green service uniform, shined shoes soon clapping to a halt next to Shinji's chair. He couldn't tell if the man was angry, annoyed or disappointed. Langley only waited for him to rise, then led him out without a word. Shinji drew stares from the other kids as he left.

Langley sighed as they got into the car, pausing with his hands on the wheel. "Katsuragi is supposed to be here to handle things like this," he said, then started the engine and made for the estate. Shinji didn't have anything to say. So what if Misato wasn't here? She was never here, not unless it was to train. His body ached, and his knuckles stung, even being wrapped in neosporin and gauze. Sister Maria said he hadn't broken any fingers, but they'd be stiff for weeks and he could feel every fiber of split skin.

They arrived at the estate, brick walls dark in the late evening. Sunlight slowly crept beneath the horizon, blues and grays overtaking it in long shadows. Still, there was some light left to tinge the flowers in twilight. Langley walked around the side of his grand home, and Shinji knew he was meant to follow.

A tool box sat by the fountain amidst the roses, contents scattered lazily atop it from yesterday. Langley fit on a pair of gloves and handed some to Shinji. He stuffed them in his pocket and picked his favorite sheers – blue colored handles with rusting blades. He could've gotten new ones, but these were the pair Gepard had given him.

Together, they started by the yellow _Hesperrhodos_ roses, clipping at thorns and dead branches. He had to use his left hand, its movements unrefined. Thin cuts began to appear.

"You shouldn't do it bare handed," Langley said, nudging his chin in Shinji's direction. He only shrugged. So the man straightened on his haunches, arms resting on his thighs. "They had to take that boy to the hospital, you know."

Shinji kept working, the thorns of the rose bushes covering every open space of the stalk before him. He could've killed Günter. Maybe with a mess of broken fingers by the end of it – training didn't translate well with rage – but he could've. The thought was alien to him, as if being spoken in a completely different language. Just the idea was difficult to grasp. He had known they were being trained to do those things, or at least had an inkling before Misato really told him. But then... Moskva had said they were fighting monsters. Things called Angels. After that, he'd forgotten Weissenburg's first lesson in the art of soldiering. It was after Shinji had beaten Asuka in a CQC practice. She had dropped her guard and he'd pinned her to the ground. Embarrassed, annoyed, and maybe a little hurt, she'd complained that if they were learning to fight, why couldn't they learn to use _real_ weapons yet?

Weissenburg actually came to his knees to address them and held out his open palms. They were rough hands, but otherwise unremarkable. "Guns and knives are only tools to make killing more efficient," he said, pausing to look at both of them in turn. His hands closed into fists. "If you do not have those, you must be able to kill with your hands."

Shinji's mind had been... turned off. Had been somewhere far away. Now that he dwelled on it, he didn't remember much of the actual fight. He just remembered that rush of anger. He just...

A lump twisted in his throat.

Twilight started to fade and darkness overtook them.

"Don't worry," Langley finally said. "So long as you're a pilot, nothing will change."

Shinji didn't see the flowers much as he worked, mind falling inward, thinking about Günter in a hospital room surrounded by his family. If he still had one.

"Yes, sir." he said, knowing he should stay away from school for the rest of his time in Germany. There was no reason to go there. Erika had stopped trying to reach him and he didn't want to tell her he was leaving. He didn't want to see her cry.

"My daughter," Langley said, pulling him from those somber thoughts. The man was only a foot away, staring at a fresh cut across his wrist. "What's she like?"

Shinji's brow scrunched, confused. How could he not know? Hadn't they lived in the same house? What made him think he knew any better? "I don't know," Shinji said, going back to the roses, a knew frustration building. Langley set his gaze on him, waiting.

Shinji let out a sigh. "I mean... she's loud, and nosy, and isn't really all that prim and proper like everyone at school thinks she is. Sometimes she's mean... well, a lot of the time..." he stopped, for a moment horrified over what he'd let tumble out. A glance at Langley told him he wasn't about to be kicked to the curb. The man's stoic expression didn't change, content to listen.

So Shinji went on. "But... she just acts tough, I think. I guess I really don't know."

That wasn't true of course. He knew a lot about Asuka, or he used to. How did he put something like that into words? His mind wandered to Unity Day, how he hadn't seen her since. Her window above was dark. She must've been out somewhere.

"I see," Langley said.

As night came in full, they packed the gloves and sheers away, going their separate ways home. Shinji went to sleep in his uniform, kept awake by a restless and fevered mind. Günter's broken face wouldn't leave him, a long thorn stuck deep in his brain. It shouldn't have bothered him so much – the fight. Asuka's absence. He'd been getting along just fine without her. He didn't need her to defend him. But he'd let himself rely on her for too long, made himself blind to Swina and his betrayal. Made himself fall for feelings towards Erika that weren't as real as he thought.

So that night, Shinji decided.

He decided he would never rely on anyone again.

The next morning, Shinji prepared for school. There was one last thing he had to do before he left. A familiar girl's voice echoed out of the open windows of the Langley house. He thought of stopping in only for a fleeting second. There was a part of him that wanted to face Asuka instead of the two people huddled under the shelter of Building A's brick wall.

Swina looked up as he approached. Shinji pretended he wasn't there. Erika was engrossed in her phone, but soon sensed his eyes on her.

"I have to leave," he said as she opened her mouth.

Erika flinched. "What?" he hated the hurt in her voice, and decided to stare at her shoes.

"My father says I have to move to Tokyo-3."

She stood up, quick, but didn't move away from the wall. One hand clutched at the pleats of her skirt. "When?"

"A few days."

Kids shouted from the halls nearby, oblivious to them. Lockers creaked and slammed closed.

Erika's voice cracked. "That's not fair."

"Lots of things aren't fair," Shinji said, regretting it too late. He looked up and that was it – her bright blue eyes on the verge of tears. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. The words just wouldn't come. So he turned and left, walking as fast as he could.

At some point, he started running.

* * *

Night crawled forth, bleeding the sky of color as it drew ever nearer. Even resting on the short S-bahn ride to Bernau, Shinji still felt the crushing sting in his sides and doubled over at the front gates of the Langley estate. Weissenburg's gruff voice howled at him from the past, demanding he stand straight and give his lungs proper oxygen. Eyes cast back down the road, he wondered how long he had been running, Berlin left in the distance. Feeling came back in sweat slick skin and muscles that oozed, so sore his legs trembled.

He stood there, gulping in air and staring up at the Estate before deciding it was time to go home. The quiet trees and whispering shrubs were out of place tonight, the dark red of sunset casting them in a sinister light. His small Japanese shack came into view.

Nowhere was home now.

He found her in his room, rifling through his things. She stood as he entered, though only acknowledged him with a glance, acting as if she had every right to be there throwing his belongings about. As though she'd seen him only yesterday instead of months ago. She was wearing a soft pink dress scattered with blue and lavender flowers – something that felt distinctly un-Asuka like, yet didn't appear out of place on her.

"What are you doing in my room?" he asked, feeling something starting to come to a boil in his stomach.

Asuka jumped, but then shrugged as she pried open another drawer, making an annoyed growl when whatever it was she was looking for didn't appear. Some of his sketch pads were thrown atop the bed, pages splayed open. He nearly stepped forward, stopping when she spotted something in one of the other drawers, though he couldn't see what she picked up. Her shoulders drooped a little, only for a second or two, and she whirled around, scathing words on the tip of her tongue. At least until she took in the raw cuts and bruises decorating his face.

"What happened to you?" she asked, furious. Anyone else would have missed the concern beneath it. She stepped forward, hand reaching out to touch the gash over his eye.

He brushed her arm away, taking a step back. "Why do you care?" he snapped, unable to think beyond the hammering of his heart. All of his belongings lay about, drawings exposed and bare – closet tossed open and contents spilled out like an open wound. A desk drawer hung crooked: old watches, coins and shoe laces scattered to the floor. Misato's beret lay somewhere amidst it all.

A storm had swept through his room.

"You made a mess," Shinji said, feeling his expression twist into a grimace, full of disdain. Asuka became guarded, her arms stiff at her sides. He wanted to scream at her. His right hand trembled, remembering the same blind fury that had gripped him only a day before.

Shinji started to clean up, pretending that his old friend had already been swept up and vanished into the garden. She stayed where she was, and he could feel her watching him as he collected his books and tucked clothes and binders back in the closet.

"Are you going to come up to the house or what?" she asked once he'd put everything away, tone haughty. She hadn't lifted a finger to help.

"No. I have a lot of homework to do." he said. A lie.

Her voice sounded tight. "Fine. Stay here for all I care." and then she was gone.

Shinji frowned, kicking one of the half open drawers. What did she have to be angry about? All she'd done was ignore him and then – and then this. Even that justification didn't stop him from feeling utterly rotten. He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have said anything. Stupid. Stupid thing to do. For an aching minute, Shinji considered going up to the house anyway and finding her. Hooks stuck in him, formed from pent up emotions that had him angry again. She may as well have been a stranger to him.

The last out of place item he plucked from the floor was an envelope with some soup stains. The letter from Asuka that he'd never opened. Out of a doubt masked by spite, he left it on his desk, where it remained sealed.

For a while, Shinji actually _did_ try to do homework. It didn't matter anymore, but maybe it would take his mind off things. He ended up sitting there for an hour, staring at nothing. 23 tracks passed. Miki Matsubara again – _wash_. He tugged the earbuds out and tossed the SDAT at the closet, still playing. A hand combed through his hair, grabbing some of it in a knot. Then something caught his eye.

Miki's voice whispered through the buds, right beside a stuffed animal that'd fallen free of the chaos in his closet. Shinji moved to pick it up, recognizing the thing. A plain, pudgy little monkey doll.

He sat on his bed with it, examining the clean fabric. Dirt stains just barely showed. He'd asked Teacher to sew it for him, back when he first found it. The man refused, so Shinji learned to sew. It had taken weeks, and a whole box of band-aids for his poor fingers.

Shinji left it by his pillow, body aching, needing to move. He decided to tend the garden in the dark, feeling the vines and flowers close off from him in preparation for the night. It wasn't long before he found himself, as always, by the roses again, patrolling them each but not caring to trim or hedge. One of them caught his shirt as he moved by.

It was _Hesperrhodos_ , a western rose that held a pinkish, yellow hue. It must have been the same bush he'd once cut his arm on. None of the others held quite the same rich, vibrant color. His fingers skimmed through its leaves, sheers carefully picking away at errant stems or dead wood. He recalled – almost fondly – falling into it after being pushed. The thorns pricked his fingers, but he didn't care – he'd gotten used to it a long time ago. Next to the bush was the Amaranthus flower, always so out of place within the rose garden, thriving despite the biting thorns and bushes that overshadowed it in their competition for sunlight.

All those years of adversity had finally started to wear away at it. The edges of the Amaranthus were touched with tinges of blackish brown, though the radiance of its petals hadn't diminished in the slightest. He hoped it wasn't dying. It would be a shame after all these years. Maybe if he moved the Amaranthus, it would still grow. Maybe he could still save it.

His hands dipped into the soil, surprisingly soft and rich. He had no idea how deep the roots went, but if he was careful...

It was meticulous work, and the night was warm and calm enough for the mosquitoes to start making a meal of him. Trailing some dirt, he brought the frail little Amaranthus to the olive tree. Grass had covered the small clearing, the tree's leaves fuller and more widespread than he remembered. The trunk had grown fatter too, its roots stretching farther.

At the center of the clearing Shinji started to dig out a new plot. During the day, it would get all the sunlight it needed and, without other plants to crowd it, have enough water to gather from the rains.

It would be able to grow now.

Still, as silly as the thought was, Shinji couldn't help but think the clearing was awfully lonely for the Amaranthus.

* * *

It didn't seem so long ago that he wandered into the Langley's vast garden, banished from the only home and family he'd ever known. Well, that place wasn't home, not like Germany was – but he supposed it soon would be.

Shinji perused the garden one more time, familiar with each hidden path and stone, each fern and birch. The memories attached to their smells and their feel didn't come – he wouldn't let them. At least until he met again with the olive tree. Moments hidden in each huge, swirling finger of root coming together at the trunk and spreading out from the branches to greet the sunshine.

Shinji, setting his duffel bag down, took a red sash from his NERV-issue tan trousers – provided with the new military uniform mailed in with his transfer orders. The material was stiff, and though it fit just fine, the sight of him in it was still an oddity. Even with Misato's red beret snug over his head. He'd spent so long in the Kloster's jackets and ties, that this new image was unrecognizable. He supposed he would get used to that too.

Unfurling the crimson cloth in his hands, he stepped up the welcoming roots of the olive tree. Asuka hadn't been home when he willed the courage somewhere to check around lunch time. Yesterday had been her last night in before leaving for Heidelberg again. Gone early in the morning. So he came out here with the noon sky overhead and tied the sash around an arm of the tree. He wouldn't have to return it now.

Shinji bowed to Teacher and thanked him before he left.

Saturated bursts of white from cooling air and water vapor lorded over the skies, distant travelers soaring in. Shinji, now standing on an air-pad with Misato at NERV-03, watched them float overhead. The screaming of a VTOL's engines grew to a high-pitched sting in his ears, upsetting the air as it touched down. He and Misato boarded, settling in for the journey divided between three flights. They were going to the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan. Misato said that's where their 4th Branch was situated. From there they would board a military transport flying out to New Yokosuka, and then they would be traveling by car to Tokyo-3.

The prospect of seeing the city up close excited him a little and he let himself look forward to going to Japan again, if nothing else than to fight down his anxiety. At least Misato was traveling with him.

"Are you sure you don't want to go say goodbye?" she asked, studying him from the seat adjacent. "There's a base near Heidelberg we can land at before getting on course."

He shook his head. "No. She's probably busy," he said, looking out the window.

"Are you sure?"

He answered with silence and they stayed the course without detour. Shinji turned his right arm over in his lap, grabbing his wrist as he inspected the long sliver of discolored skin left behind after the rosebush had cut him open at only five.

They talked little on the trip, or at least Shinji did. Misato was hard to stop once she got going, not that he wanted to. Much like Asuka and Erika, she was able to hold long, rambling conversations almost entirely by herself. He wondered if that was just a girl thing. Once they transferred at Baikonur, she told him it had been decided that he would be living with her, since he wasn't old enough to live on his own yet.

She breezed over it, hoping he wouldn't question the order, but he knew who had decided that. The fears he'd been ignoring as a child, despite creeping suspicions, were confirmed for the second time in a month. His father didn't want anything to do with him. Asuka had been right.

"Here we are!" Misato cheered, pointing for him to look out the window. The sky was black by then, but Shinji could clearly see fragments of moonlight lapping off the waters of a lake. Beyond that, a midnight city glistened with neon at the feet of dark pillars dotted with orange. Sentinels of steel and glass guarding a secluded valley. Cold concrete walled off the metropolis and its ordered water purification pools and quiet honeycomb clusters of solar panels. The most advanced city on the planet, a hub of human ingenuity greater than the sprawl of Chicago-2 in America.

"Home sweet home!" Misato cheered.

"Yeah," he said, taking in the warm glow pooling off every building and illuminating every road, soft like embers of a dwindling fire. The heavy black mountains all around rose like waves to consume Tokyo-3's gentle radiance. A weak flame in a land that otherwise looked empty and barren.

"Home sweet home."

* * *

At the Langley estate, the garden remained empty, its occupants cast out to the world. The pathways became overgrown, stones uplifted and consumed. Water stopped flowing through the fountains, run dry until they held nothing but the baked corpses of lizards. In the clearing with the old olive tree, the Amaranthus started to succumb to a slow, cellular rot that sapped away its vigor and life. When it shriveled and dipped down to touch the barren soil at its roots, its rich color remained. Unfading.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, that concludes the first of four acts for Amarantos. There will eventually be a brief Interlude chapter featuring Misato and Weissenburg, but - unfortunately - it'll be quite a while before I actually publish Act II. Life is time consuming and so is indulging in fanfic. I don't want to rush out any chapters, so I'll only start posting Act II when I have it sufficiently fleshed out. Think of it like waiting for the release of a second book.

Until then, I'd like to thank you all again for your comments/thoughts/criticisms and I hope to see you around for Act II.


	11. Act II - Chapter 1: Reunion

**Chapter 1: Reunion**

* * *

The air was filled with smoke and blood.

Thick, fuming black columns stained the buildings suspended high above where a chasm gaped in the ceiling of the GeoFront, the edges of it rusted through from the Angel's slow, decaying descent through Tokyo-3's thick alloy. Sirens sang in answer to the destruction as fire blazed across the expanse below, illuminating its megalithic chrome walls while waves of ash and heat flowed over a hard-edged titan, its bright armor blackened with energy scouring and soot. Within, the plug canopy was doused in a stinging crimson, warning panels pulsing along its length as alert systems wailed for the pilot's attention. An earsplitting chorus of buzzers, electronic tones and high-pitched rings.

Comm traffic heavy with static poured over the BattleFreq. _"Negative conductor suffering power outages, mountings in the undercarriage are loose."_

 _"Supply bands one through seven, eighteen through twenty-four severed from overload, we're getting coolant spills in the cable lines."_

 _"Unit-one's power is still stable, the railgun can handle it."_

 _"And the shield?"_

As if in response, Unit-01's left arm sagged to hang at its side. The shield latched to the forearm plating, now nothing more than a hunk of twisted metal, slid from its anchors and crashed to the ground. Smoke poured off the charred appendage.

 _"Left arm inoperable."_

 _"Energy build up from the Angel!"_

Miles across the wasted landscape, what Shinji's target acquisition relay casually named Ramiel – a giant domed mass resembling an _amanitas_ , colored the same bone-white as the vertebrae structure hanging down beneath it – elicited a shrill, animal scream. Melting pain erupted under his skin as light poured into the Eva's upper chest. He reacted on reflex, screaming from the sensation of muscle and sinew burning away. The railgun in Unit-01's grasp snapped with arcs of electricity and a projectile burst from the muzzle, tearing sound with a deafening _boom_.

The round shattered a hole in the GeoFront wall, rattling the underground fortress with violent tremors. Buildings fell from their anchors above and threw up clouds of debris upon meeting the ground.

An alert flared, voices at headquarters shouted a warning, but Shinji already knew. He commanded Unit-01 to turn, growling at the ripping strain it put on his arms. The machine swung about with the weight of the railgun to face the Angel, which had cut its beam short to teleport behind him, still keeping a safe distance in the wide underground expanse. In the back of his mind, he was relieved. If it closed the distance, he would be within reach of its decay field – disconnected from his power supply and the all-seeing eyes of headquarters. Cut off from any signal or retreat.

Shinji was already pulling the trigger as the heavy barreled weapon came about. A red warning chirped next to his face.

 _Capacitors still cooling_.

Another shot would tear the weapon apart if he didn't wait. Energy readings form the Angel spiked. The targeter wasn't aligned yet. Shinji pulled the trigger. A second, thunderous _boom_ sucked up all other sound, a wash of pain swallowing his right shoulder and the side of his face as the Angel's core, buried within its vertebrae stem, vibrated and spun flaying streams of light.

Then Ramiel shrieked again with a sudden, jagged hole punched in its spinal cord, a chunk of the core going with it. Cracks spread into iceberg splitting fissures across its porcelain form and mass moaned as it fell, earth shattering in rolling swells with its impact. A chorus of squishy cracks, like rolling all the bones in his neck, sounded as it landed.

Unit-01, dashed with flurries of flame, shuddered, the motors in its right arm whirring as it dipped with the weight of the railgun. Its knees wobbled and collapsed, lights flickering over its frame as they struggled through power fluctuations. Red fluid oozed from its chest and upper shoulder, pauldron cut off and underwire mangled. Fortified layers of titanium glowed red from the scouring heat.

Shinji felt his muscles tighten and strain. A new warning cropped up _– high sync-rate causing negative feedback anomalies. Left arm connection attempt: failed. Right arm functionality: declining._ Shinji disabled it and the rest, a raw headache already breaking against his skull. His vitals were sharp, he could feel it in the break-neck pounding of his heart and the bloated catch in his throat. It felt like he was melting from the inside.

 _"Shinji, you've turned off your early warning system, what's wrong?"_

"Nothing." Everything was wrong. He didn't know if the Eva could take much more. What would he do if the right arm failed?

 _"Energy readings from the target are fading, pattern dissipating."_

Caught up in the cloud of dust and debris it had created, the Angel grew still, every moment or so straining in small spasms, the ripping of its sinew creating a sound like peeling an orange.

Even with spirals of relief tickling his neck and shoulders, Shinji's every nerve pooled with the body of Eva, the weight of its armor his weight, the burns on its skin his skin. Over a tundra of ash and black soil, Shinji lingered on the smoking, discarded form of Unit-00. Data pinged to life by his head, taking readings from on-board sensors yet to be fried. Rei had stopped broadcasting over the comms minutes ago. No one was even talking about her.

" _It's still operational?"_ he heard Misato ask.

" _Marginally. Core integrity is only two percent and its Ego-Barrier is fading."_

" _At the rate of decay, it'll be silent within the hour."_

" _Can it still hit us?"_

" _Unconfir- woah, hang on. Energy buildup around the core."_

" _Is it going to fire again?"_

" _No, I… I think it's trying to self-destruct."_

Shinji flinched, eyes flickering to the downed Angel, Unit-01 responding to thought and attempting to heft the railgun just a little higher, but it stalled with metallic screeches. Massive electrical cords pouring from the rear of its frame hissed and spat sparks. Internally, something rattled the frame with an unseen burst. Experimental, its metals were weak from the trauma of accelerating rounds – the weapon had reached its limit. It was done.

Unit-01 rose and took a step forward.

 _"Shinji, umbrella your A.T. field and hold your position."_

His eyes went back to Rei, to the silent Unit-00, as he became aware of the cold, piercing feeling pressing into him like a cocoon of knives. It was new every time he felt it, but didn't belong to him in any way. Always an intruder to his consciousness. It was all around and in every direction. His whole body was tense with it, the nerve-ripping perception of his surroundings as his senses honed in on the pain, urging him to fight, remembering the beam burning through him only moments ago.

Fear.

Shinji knew, from their last sortie, what it smelled like when an Eva's bio-layers oozed together into hot mush. How the taste of it stained the air. Burned with the sharp scent of cordite – weapons discharge. Even now, he felt the power of the Eva slipping from his fingers, as though he were being yanked out of the plug by invisible strings, drawing him out into the open with the Angel, forcing him to witness how insignificant he was against monsters that could control particles and wave matter on a whim.

His mind stuck on that. The blades cut further into him. If not for the LCL, he would have had trouble breathing. Capacitors hummed and sputtered with fading power along the railgun's barrel. He leaned on the controls, focused his thought impulse, sight zeroing on Ramiel as though he were looking through binoculars. A thick, soupy smoke leaked into the air from its open wound, like oil spilling into water. Shinji commanded nearly heat-fused fingers open, dropping the railgun. A road-sized umbilical cable trailed behind Unit-01 as he moved it forward.

 _"Shinji, what are you doing?"_ Misato again. He had to grind his teeth to stop the trembling in his neck.

 _"Hold your position."_

Heedless, Unit-01 lumbered through the battlefield, dry earth cracking under foot. Ramiel lay in a bed of ruined earthworks and bunkers built into the side of the mountains. Tiny motes of light glittered from slivers of its broken stem, their shards chittering meekly about its frame as it tried to cover its exposed core.

" _Unit-one, I gave you an order!"_

Unit-01, responding to his commands, sank to a knee as its right hand crashed through Ramiel's weak barrier, breaking yet more bone to grasp its core. The thing fit into the behemoths hand – he could feel it shiver in his palm, could feel Ramiel bristle at the touch, bright rays trickling in dancing streaks towards the Eva. Voices from control brayed for him, but he couldn't hear them anymore as the Angel expanded its decay field. His heartbeat rolled in his ears, pulsing through his skull and making all else in his mind dark. Power flickered in the plug, cutting off his connection through the umbilical cable.

" _Shinj–!"_

The BattleFreq went dead. Oxidation crept along what was left of his armor. At the very least, he could keep the implosion of the core contained with his A.T. field. But if he could crush it first…

He felt it, was so hungry for it he nearly smiled – a crack formed on the red sphere, a small one. Almost. He could sense it about to grind to dust between his fingers. _Almost_.

There was a flash of light, pain ripping through him as Unit-01's shoulder burst from its socket.

* * *

 **Neon  
Genesis  
Evangelion  
Act II: Karpos**

* * *

 **September 2nd, 7 days after the Third Battle of Tokyo-3**

* * *

After a 10 hour flight Asuka could finally see Japan, sprawling over the water and disappearing within a distant mist on the horizon. The wing of their black coated transport, designed to carry the obscene weight of an Evangelion, dipped as they arced over the mainland, waiting for clearance to land. It allowed her to see the wrinkled spread of green mountains and valleys, touched with pools of ocean that used to be towns or cities.

The long series of islands were completely different from the old maps, but the speck she was looking for remained largely untouched. A smattering of silver and steel blue in a ring of calderas – craters created from ancient volcanic eruptions. From above, it looked like someone had frozen the impact of a raindrop hitting the water. In its cradle sat Tokyo-3.

"Are you nervous?" Kaji asked, slipping his cell phone away as he came to sit back down. A hand smoothed over his face and rubbed at his stubble, brows shooting up in anticipation.

Asuka tried not to flare up and turned back to the window. "About what?" she snipped, with maybe more bite than was warranted for such an innocent question.

"Alright," Kaji sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. Asuka soured, but didn't want to turn around and face him again, hoping he might start talking about something else. But he didn't, only shifted in his seat and stayed quiet. He'd been like that since the night before they left Berlin, all brooding and moody and busy talking on his phone while she was left bored to tears. And now he thought she was so annoyed with him he wouldn't even talk to her. She wasn't annoyed at him, just...

She shifted closer to the viewport, peeved now that he had to ask such a stupid question. Just because she'd gone to the bathroom a few dozen times in the last hour to adjust herself. Her hair kept messing and she hated that the flight was so long and she just so happened to be wearing her least comfortable pair of panties and hadn't realized until the dress was already on, while the bags were stowed and the flight was already underway and she was made to sit for hours on end and-

Asuka let out a loud sigh-turned-grunt and tried to focus on the land below.

It was somewhere she'd wanted to see since she was little, but could only stare through as they cruised along. The sight was overshadowed by clouds of thought she'd been trying to keep from wandering about at their leisure. Kaji's persistent attempts to get her talking in that direction were – well, obnoxious. She wasn't stupid, far from it, and she knew what he was doing.

Why did he care so much anyway? Why would she feel nervous at all about coming to Tokyo-3? Certainly not because of some old friend. She'd been waiting to be deployed to Headquarters since their combat training was up. It'd taken them so long just to finish her Eva, which was humiliatingly enough the third one in production. Seeing her Unit-02, even malformed deep beneath Berlin, made her think it would be done before the others. But they'd started on it so late. It wasn't fair.

With an inner sigh, Asuka took a moment to remind herself it was the production model. The design every other Eva in the series was based on now. Hers was purpose built for combat, not like the slapped together units made in Japan. A superior weapon for an ace pilot – and she _was_ an ace pilot. The clunky 3D simulations might have been goofy to look at and didn't capture the same heavy weight iron-on-your-brain feedback as the real thing, but her performance was top tier. So what if the war started without her? The Tokyo pilots might've been up on sorties and kills, but she'd have them beat out before the month was up. Especially that _boy_.

A wry smirk played at her lips. He might've been shipped off first, but she'd always been his better in sparring and their exercises, with exception to a few areas – which she had pursued doggedly to correct in the past year, pushing her operational limits in the plug.

Well, maybe that was embellishing. He'd flattened her out just as often, she could admit that. That was then, this was now. She was better. She had to be.

Still, like the trickling streams and rivers coming down from Mount Fuji, her thoughts pattered to the estate back home, watering on memories she hadn't bothered to dwell upon in months. Maybe it was her nerves, or the fact she hadn't slept a wink on the flight and now the weary tug of fatigue was blanketing her further every moment. Either way, she slipped into a reverie, marveling at the swirling cistern of feeling it evoked in her.

He'd never really left her mind to begin with, much as she entertained otherwise. After all, he was the reason she drove herself so recklessly to exhaustion during her training in his absence, which was maddening in and of itself.

But that was always how their relationship had been.

Asuka had been a little girl – alone, abandoned in her large garden and no one to share it with. Not that she was very good at sharing, but the flowers were all so many colors and the trees so tall and patient in the sun. She didn't need anyone there, nor did she really want anyone there. Not at the time. Even if she secretly ached for it.

It just would've been nice if someone else thought it was beautiful too.

She remembered thinking that wasn't a thing she should have wanted. She was by her own. She didn't need others to make her feel less so. So she'd stayed in the house, away from the ferns and flowers from then on, wondering who the strange creature wandering her garden was. It was a boy of course, but boys turned into men and men were foreign, distant things that didn't have an interest in anything but themselves and grown women.

So, one day, finally drawn into a fit, she had gone to look for the boy to tell him not to trample the flowers and to stay away from her roses. That was when she found the snake, scales of black so dark they shimmered blue in the right light. It had turned its head and looked at her, as though it knew her, then swayed off. She watched it slither and wiggle, so fluid and – though she had lacked a word for it then – graceful. It liked to climb itself into the trees, curling atop the lower branches and occasionally poking the air with its forked tongue.

She stared at it there, waiting for it to do something. It didn't talk or hiss or even bite, but merely sat in the shade content in its coil. So Asuka, in all her childish wisdom, climbed after it. The clever thing dashed over the branches and into the next tree, out of sight. That's when she realized the tree she'd chased it from held these greasy black balls. Papa had shown her these once. Olives.

They looked inviting enough and she ate amply, souring at the bitter taste. Yet they were nearly sweet, just as they went down her throat. It made her mouth tingle and water, so she ate more, and repeated this for the next few days. To the point where the burning dryness of the olives didn't bother her so much. On the third day, however, the boy came stumbling into the clearing, the viper she'd gotten to know so well making a quick getaway. Asuka was down amongst the roots 'round the other side. He hadn't noticed her yet and she watched while he ambled to the base of the tree and began to try and stifle quiet sobs.

She hated that sound. What did a little boy have to cry about anyway? Asuka crept around the tree, still wary of him. She was going to make him stop crying.

Asuka was jarred from the memory as they dove in on their final approach, soon landing with smooth precision at an airstrip in a port reserved strictly for NERV personnel. Various craft and carriers stamped with their insignia came and went with hive-like rapidity. Even this small hub dwarfed the third branch in Berlin, but one was a city-wide complex while the other was squished within a city district, hardly comparable.

"Well, well, so this is headquarters," Kaji said, leaning to peer out the window with her. "Pretty impressive, don't you think Asuka?"

"I suppose," she hummed.

"You suppose?" he asked with a bit of a laugh. "The entire city was built to accommodate NERV Headquarters. It's a veritable fortress."

"I just wish it wasn't taking so long to get there."

The transport rolled onto a wide plate and they were taken underground. The speed of descent could've competed with a sloth and Asuka had to keep forcing her fingers down from curling her hair, lest she rip the locks out. Everything was greasy now too and she felt completely gross. Really, she just wanted this entire trip to be over and done with.

Their platform settled with a rattling _thoom_ into the base of a cavernous tunnel, made with the stark but raw efficiency of concrete and evenly spaced florescent lighting. On the other side of the bay people and machinery moved, almost microscopic in the plain expanse. Asuka scanned a bundle of figures waiting along the caution line, trying to decipher facial features.

"Ready?"

Asuka flinched, but recovered, attempting to both stand and stretch at the same time. "Yep! Oh, I can't wait to take a shower!" she puffed out a breath and snatched her duffel bag from under the seat. Like the gentleman he was, Kaji held out his hand for it and she obliged. "First I want to see the GeoFront! Then you can take me on a tour of Tokyo-3, right Kaji?"

Her guardian smiled. "We'll see Asuka. I have a lot to do with the transfer."

The tone was what struck her more than anything, the kind that had already decided _no_. She spun at the end of the lane. "Kaji! That isn't fair!"

Right behind her, he stopped short, sputtering at first. "Weren't you just saying how you couldn't wait to get off the plane?"

"But you're changing our plans!" she cried, folding her arms.

He quirked an eyebrow, smile fading. "I told you I had to report in to the Commander first, now what's this about?"

"It's about you not keeping your promises," she said, more frustrated now than she had been on the entire flight. She turned away from him, facing down the lane to the open hatchway leading outside. Muffled voices over the intercom flowed through the gap. All she wanted was to fly in, have her wonderful Unit-02 prepared in its launch bay and spend the rest of the day with Kaji who she'd barely seen the past week. So what if she–

"Asuka," Kaji's tone slapped her. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but–"

" _Nothing's_ wrong with me," she whined, trapped between an irate mentor and the light beyond the cabin. This was a nightmare and she hadn't even got off the plane yet.

"I see," he said, softly this time. "Are you worried about meeting Shinji again?"

She made a high-noted scoff, tossing her hair aside as she turned about. "Who, that bellyaching beansprout? Why would I be? He was a loser when we were kids and he's probably still a loser now. So what?"

One of his lopsided smiles returned. "But he's already had three sorties."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"And he has a median sync-ratio of seventy-two-point-three percent. Isn't that… ten points above yours?"

"The sync-rate doesn't make the pilot," she snipped, tactfully and decisively ending the discussion there as she marched off the plane.

The tunnel seemed liable to swallow her whole now that she was setting foot in it. To the left were one of two railway tracks floor workers were readying to adopt the platform once the Eva was detached from the plane and anchored in place. Straight ahead, a short walk that took infinitely longer, were a handful of figures she didn't recognize and two that she did.

At Misato's side, almost behind her, was Shinji dressed in the standard tan NERV uniform, except he was the only one she could ever recall standing out in it. Maybe that was just because he was a familiar sight, aside from the way it broadened his shoulders and made him appear more rigid and sharp. How easily he occupied it, even with one arm hanging in a sling. Asuka knew they were both only 14 – well, she was 13 – but Shinji looked much older. So much more grown up than she'd ever given thought to. She must've looked that way too, having filled into A cups and wearing a new curve in her hips.

As they got closer, Kaji spread his free arm out. "Ah, if it isn't the beautiful and illustrious Misato Katsuragi! _What_ a welcoming committee!"

Misato crossed her arms. "Well, if it isn't a walking scumbag."

"Oh, come now, isn't that a bit of a harsh greeting?"

"Not for you," she said, glaring.

Kaji gave a mock pout and smug smile. "Ouch."

Misato's lips twisted in a "sorry, not sorry' kind of smile. As she set her attention on Asuka, her demeanor changed instantly and she beamed. "Hey, long time no see kiddo! Gosh, you've grown some since I last saw you."

Asuka let out a small laugh, standing straighter and holding her hands behind her back. "Well of course, Misato! After all, you remember my figure started filling out before most other girls."

The woman offered a smile. "If you say so," she said, stepping aside. "By the way, I figured I'd bring someone along to meet you." she put her hand on Shinji's back and gave him a nudge. Though his mouth twitched with a grimace, he ignored her and took a step forward.

Her lungs swelled and prickled as though shards of needle had burst in her chest. The mere pressure made her want to slap him in his whole face. What would he say? She couldn't tell at all. Knowing him something grossly plain and obvious. No, she couldn't tell. What would she do if he insulted her? Everything in her mind told her she wanted him to so she could bite back, that little jerk. _Go ahead Shinji, say something_.

"Hey," he said.

Asuka's hands moved to her hips as the knot in her core unraveled, heart beat no less rapid. She took her time looking him up and down, settling her expression on unimpressed. "What happened to you, Third Child? Angels too much for you?" she sneered. What flashed through his eyes stabbed her, though she didn't let it show. It only stoked the white hot furnace glowing under her skin.

Asuka took two steps forward, right in his face. That'd show him. "What? Got something to say to me?"

His pupils burned. Misato stepped halfway between them. "Woah, cool it," she said, expression somewhere between concern and bewilderment. "What's wrong with you two? I thought you'd be happy to see each other again."

"We're not little kids anymore," Shinji muttered.

That little brat. So what if his score was ten points higher than hers? If he thought–

Klaxons shattered the air, drawing everyone tense. " _All personnel to level one battle stations. All personnel to level one battle stations. Pattern Blue detected on an attack vector. Evangelion pilots prepare for immediate launch._ "

In a flash, Misato was in soldier mode and for a second Asuka felt as though she were in training again. "Alright, we're cutting this short. Asuka, you're coming with us to the cages." She and their entourage marched off to a row of parked motorized carts. The tech with them slipped into the drivers seat and they hopped into the remaining spaces.

"What about Unit-two?" Asuka asked, letting her tone slip. Shinji had taken the seat up front with Misato and the tech, while she was relegated to the back. _Jerkwad_.

"They'll get it there, but we're going to have to delay a combat launch. Which means you two will be deploying inside the defense perimeter. _Damn,_ " she cursed through her teeth, slipping a comm piece into an ear. As she did so, Kaji approached.

"Um, what about me?" he said, and Asuka took in the only four occupied seats.

Misato made a show of doing the same. "Huh, guess you'll be walking," she said, giving him a wink.

"Or you could... sit in my lap. Like old times."

" _Excuse me?!_ "

Asuka just about burst, until Kaji held up a forestalling hand. "It's alright," he said, handing her carry on back, "I'll see you after the battle. Good luck!"

Then they were off, zipping through increasingly smaller personnel tunnels that, as they went further, lost the clean order of the hangars. Miles of wire and pipelines followed them along curved walls. Every so often, she glanced at Shinji, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring hard at their destination ahead, and she could practically see the walls building in his mind. He would do that whenever they used to spar. Just get this look that told her he was calculating – honing in. Determined.

She recalled a sort of sharpness dancing over her skin whenever she noticed it, like she were excited. This time however, she saw there was a hollowness that occupied it, and a black, poisonous bitterness crawled over her instead.

They reached the Evangelion cages in short order and Asuka wasn't directed to the changing room so much as she tagged behind Shinji as he navigated the corridors. Misato left them for the command center. A mere curtain separated the boys and girls sections of the lockers and they both changed in terse stillness.

Out in the cages, she waited along one of the Eva restraining walls, watching as Unit-02 was carefully marionetted into an upright position. There was no sign of the First Child and her unit cage was obscured. Where could she be?

The sight of Shinji cut her speculation short. She noticed him right away, making for the cage designated Unit-01, maybe twenty feet from where she leaned along the wall. At the gateway – a small opening in the massive steel cable shutters – he stopped, right arm pressed to his stomach while his free hand clutched at a support railing. Asuka could see the color had drained some from his face, giving him a sickly white pallor that made the black rings around his eyes more visible.

As though sensing her, he shifted and caught her stare. The change was cutting, his weariness tucked away as he turned to march up the steps to the insertion platform.

She tracked him every step of the way, brow knit, jaw tight. "I won't let you beat me," she growled. Not on her first sortie in Japan. Not to Mister Ten Points Higher. Numbness wound her stomach like someone had dropped a bowling ball on it. "I _won't_."

After an agonizing wait that drew an ache in her joints for action, Unit-02 was finally ready. She bolted up the grated stairway to her entry plug, as if in a race. Once sealed in, she was drowned in LCL while the techs whisked through activation and pre-launch checklists. Internal mechanisms rumbled through the Eva's feet and to her own as Unit-02 was taken to the launch pads alongside Unit-01.

Windows of both Misato and Shinji appeared on her left. " _Alright you two,_ " the Captain said, " _Our defense grid is still under repair from the last battle, so you won't have much in the way of protective fire barriers for this deployment._ _The Magi have little to nothing on the target either – that means we don't know anything concrete about its offensive or defensive capabilities._ "

Shinji mouthed something under his breath. Whatever was said, Misato ignored it. They were decidedly not interested in acknowledging one another.

Beside Unit-02's left leg, a massive warehouse crane gliding along the cieling locked a pallet rifle in place on her launch harness. "I can kill the Angel myself," she said, "I don't need backup."

" _We don't take unnecessary risks like that, Asuka. I want coordinated attacks, understand? Prepare for launch."_

Both their panels winked out. Asuka hunched forward, grip tightening around the induction levers. A countdown appeared on her right, ticking down in sync with the operator's voice over the comms. An alarm screamed and the counter flashed green.

Beneath her a ripple shuddered through the launch pad and the lights above shivered with power fluctuations. A low, whining alarm triggered and metal screeched from jamming mechanisms.

Misato cut over the channel. " _What's happening?"_

 _"Emergency disconnect. The launch pad circuits aren't getting enough power and I'm reading damage in the ignition system. The Magi are also reporting outages in several subsections of the base."_

 _"How are we losing power? What about the back up generators?"_

 _"Our grid took a beating from powering the railgun last sortie and we've only completed forty-eight percent of overall repairs. The generators can't allocate power if the lines are damaged."_

 _"Are we able to isolate the affected areas supplying the cages?"_

Another man's voice interjected. _"We can, but repairs could take hours depending on the extent of damage..."_

 _"Didn't the catapults pass testing phases two days ago?"_

 _"Individual, not simultaneous launches. It looks like consumption demands put more stress on the circuits than we thought. They'll have to be gutted again."_

Misato made an aggrieved sigh _. "Have engineering put this on priority, and tell them to do it right this time. We're not getting the Evas topside this way, not today."_

A pause stretched the frequency as the woman considered other options. So did Asuka. Maybe they could be airlifted out? She was sure they had shafts in the armored shutters for that. But she doubted there was a VTOL strong enough to get an Eva through. Only the bomber transports could do that, and those needed a lift to reach the mountain hangars anyway.

"I don't need to fight the Angel on the surface," she said, "let it come to the GeoFront."

An automated voice spoke over the loudspeakers, amplified in the echo of the launch bay. _"Target has breached the Shiroyama defense line."_

Asuka smiled.

 _"No,"_ Misato said, _"you're going to use the shafts to climb to the surface. Our defensive capabilities are null down here. We have to engage the Angel at the intercept zone. The Magi are mapping out your route now, so follow their markers and arm at the nearest munitions depot. Get moving."_

* * *

Both Eva's took their rifles and fastened them to the magnetic plates on their thigh armor. Machinery crashed as the war machines began to climb their separate shafts.

Asuka didn't know if she was thankful or not for the red emergency lights casting the long tunnel in crimson. At least she could see where she was sticking Unit-02's hands. Being up at such an angle had gravity putting just enough weight on her to be noticeable. LCL cushioning compensated for the rest.

Lining the center of the launch shaft between the electromagnetic rails were ribbed support sections, which she was sure the Eva was doing awful damage to each climb she made. At this point, it didn't matter much to her. She had a job to do. Radio chatter was kept to a minimum, at least on the BattleFreq, making her ache for something. Conversation, voices, action. Anything but the long dark.

"This is so stupid," she said, frowning. Unit-02's hand slipped and she pulled back on the induction levels, the associated impulse shooting the Eva's hand out to catch itself. "What kind of command center can't launch its own Evas?"

" _The target has passed the Daikanzan defense point._ "

 _"Asuka, cut the chatter and keep moving."_

"I haven't _stopped_ moving," she snapped, muttering bitter comforts in her native language. The echoing stillness of the black maw seemed to grow louder, even over the whirring of the Eva's hydraulics. Despite the holo-map sitting next to her head, it felt like she was lost.

Asuka had never felt claustrophobic in the plug before. The place had always been welcoming to her, like being wrapped in a warm flannel blanket during the winter months back home, dark and comforting. There wasn't a sense of the cold, lifeless metal that enclosed her now, making her blind, deaf and dumb to the world below and above her. She was nowhere, stuck inbetween with no clear direction but up to fight where the enemy was. Somewhere out there was Shinji, finding his way just like her. Except she couldn't see him either. He was lost too, even though the little marker on her Plug-HUD told her exactly where he was. There was no face or name.

 _"The Angel has stopped over Mount Hakone and is currently holding position._ _Point defense systems have had no effect._ _No spikes in activity detected."_

 _"Is it preparing an attack?"_

 _"All of our sensors are reporting threshold readings, no abnormalities."_

 _"Does it know we're coming?"_ Misato said, more in a whisper than addressing anyone.

Asuka redoubled her efforts, determined to reach the Angel before Shinji. Meters-to-target beside Unit-01's marker began to drop faster. He was thinking the same thing.

"Come on, Asuka," she said, low enough it wouldn't be picked up on the Freq. The launch tunnel came to an intersection, one half splitting off horizontal and allowing her to crawl, transitioning the pressure of gravity from pushing on her chest to weighing on her back instead. Once she reached the edge of the GeoFront the route split off again and she mounted the vertical shaft to begin climbing. Glancing at the holo-map again, Shinji was a hair's breadth away from topside, while she still had a few hundred meters to go. Asuka picked up the pace, heat burning over her forehead.

Comms came alive again. _"Shinji, wait for Unit-two before launching your assault on the Angel."_

 _"Roger,"_ he said, as dull and tired as before.

 _"Unit-one has armed its ACR combat rifle."_

The tension over the BattleFreq jumped. _"Shinji, obey my orders!"_ Misato hollered.

A pause bled over the line. Then, someone from command. _"Contact!"_

A growl reached her. _"That idiot."_

Asuka thought something along the same lines, face pinched as she willed her Eva faster. The walls trembled under Unit-02's fingers. She couldn't lose the battle, not to him. She _couldn't_ be seen as incompetent on her first sortie, damn him. Not now. Unit-02's knee railed against something protruding from the wall, shearing as it caught on the Eva's armor. Whatever she tore loose crashed into her pallet rifle, knocking it free of the magnetic plates.

The weapon fell into the abyss. " _Verdammt_!"

 _"It's okay Asuka,"_ Misato said, forcing calm into her voice, _"you can get another one topside."_

Impacts continued to vibrate down to her, until finally she reached the surface hatch, which parted as she approached. A world of super-sonic cracks and screaming bangs.

Her heart thundered.

 _"The Magi are marking re-arm points on your displays now,"_ Misato said as she hauled Unit-02 out onto the streets. As promised a small network of blue-tinged markers sprang up across the landscape of her Plug-HUD. She glanced over the locations and then dismissed them – a once over was enough, she'd be forcing herself to process too much information otherwise.

The Angel was across Lake Ashi by the sulfur mounds of Mount Hakone. There was a low rumbling that preceded it, like the hum of her Eva's internal engines resonating through the plug. A sound that rose with the blazing orange form of the Angel, as though the Earth had inherited a second sun, but cut with sharp, smooth faces like a gem. Straight lines of varying intensity etched its surface at a downward slant, giving an unsettling sense of sentience with each trickling glow spearing down their length.

How it hovered over the air, Asuka couldn't say, but she didn't really care. Unit-02's targeting system began tracking the thing, naming it Gaghiel. It ascended steadily, unhurried and though it was odd to think, with purpose.

To her left crouched Unit-01, roughly seventeen city blocks away and using the buildings for cover. Flares winked from the points of light in the Angel's etching, razor thin particle beams glittering in the air before blossoming in pink explosions that ate away at Unit-01's cover. The Eva staggered, something rupturing on its back.

 _"Unit-one's umbilical cable has been cut!"_

Asuka moved Unit-02 towards the nearest weapons cache. ""Just expand your field! I got this." No sooner had she said it than Shinji's Eva lumbered out of cover, closing within five miles of the Angel.

"Hey!"

Particle streams winked again from the Angel and clusters of energy burst through asphalt to meet the charging Eva. Asuka lost sight of Unit-01 as the tide of ripping blasts plowed towards her in a jagged line. Pure, luminous white light blinded her, the impacts swallowing her skin in a wash of heat. Shock-waves shook the plug and the lights snapped red, warnings flaring on either side of her. _Power Supply Disconnect. Power Supply Disconnect._

 _"Unit-two has switched to internal power!"_ A counter replaced the warnings as the operator said it.

Asuka cursed. The thought to find another cable port crossed her mind. But she had to get in the fight. Asuka turned to grab her rifle, only to find the folding panel mangled and fused shut. A glance at her battery timer. 04:36. She repositioned Unit-02, wedging its fingers into a gap in the panel.

Unit-01 had found cover again, drawing its rifle closer as glass and aluminum shattered overhead. Then it spun from cover, unleashing a tide of depleted uranium at the thing called Gaghiel, empty shells the size of cars crashing at its feet. The rounds arced into the Angel and it responded in kind. Fire consumed the ground about Unit-01, scouring the armor as it fought the Eva's A.T. Field.

As Shinji spent his last round, the building on Unit-01's right opened to reveal the long shaft of a prog-spear. Dropping his rifle, Shinji took it in the Eva's right hand, side stepping through smoke and heat to an open thoroughfare.

Unit-01 hefted the spear over a shoulder and, with one powerful step, hurled it at Gaghiel.

Flames licked the air around the Angel, accompanied by the sound of screeching glass. An A.T. field shrieked and the next moment Unit-01's spear was buried blade first through a building behind her. If it's trajectory had been just a few degrees to the right...

Metal groaned and Unit-02 stumbled back as she ripped the steel panel from its holdings. Snatching the pallet rifle up, Asuka turned and opened fire. Led pulsed in her throat. She hadn't let the targeter align, not that she could see the Angel very well due to the growing clouds of battle billowing over the valley. A handful of the rounds arced under its silhouette, throwing fountains of earth in the air as they struck the mountains. Several hit home, impacting with bursts of smoke and fire.

As the fog dispersed, she saw the Angel's surface was unscathed. Gaghiel had changed shape altogether. From its compact form had blossomed something predatory and bird-like, its wings composed of bright orange shards that burned like hot irons. At the center of it hovered a red sphere, guarded jealousy by shards that dipped to a razor thin point resembling a beak. The thing had no eyes, but there was a subtle malice in the spread of its wings.

When it moved, neither of them were ready.

Gaghiel dove at the ground, so low its A.T. field ripped up forests and buildings as it streaked for Unit-01. The Eva's left-side pauldron parted for the prog-knife. The Angel was quicker, catching Asuka's breath as a dozen of its winged shards lanced forth to burrow in the Eva's thick plating. Shinji's frequency stuttered as Unit-01 collapsed into the side of a apartment complex, barely managing to keep on its feet.

Her timer chirped a warning. 02:41. The pallet rifle was doing jack-all, she had to find another cable. There was one just within range behind her.

The shards buried in Unit-01's chest detonated, shooting chunks of metal and bio-layer over streets and homes. Shinji stifled a scream over the comms. The Angel was within melee distance.

Asuka had only just set Unit-02's hand around the cable jack when light shimmered before Unit-01, the Angel's wings folding together. Hexagonal waves flashed and an unseen force ripped into it, tearing pieces of the war machine from their mountings while red fluid spat forth from deep lacerations. Unit-01 tumbled in a whirlwind of purple, green and gray as it crashed into Tokyo-3's downtown blocks. A horrible crescendo of rending steel and collapsing concrete rattled the valley.

"Shinji!" A waypoint winked over Unit-01 and began flickering between yellow and red, a rapid alert tone sounding with it. The comms burst with traffic, Misato's voice bringing order to the frenzy.

" _Damage report!_ "

" _Massive trauma to the chest and abdomen!_ _The pilot's synchrograph is reversing! The pulses are flowing backwards!_ "

" _Vitals?_ "

" _Extremely erratic. Blood is pooling away from the brain – he's going into shock! The LCL is mitigating the effects, but at this rate we're going to see cardiac arrest._ "

" _Sever the pilot's connection and stabilize his heart!_ "

" _Right!_ "

" _Maya, eject Unit-one's entry plug. I want recovery teams in the air. And dispatch a med-evac!_ "

" _On it!_ "

Ejecting the severed line, Asuka slammed the new cable in with clumsy force. Her plug washed green and the timer vanished. Gaghiel rose in the air, wings opening once more as if in triumph. Asuka braced the rifle stock and let loose a volley, sustained this time, her ammo counter falling to half. The Angel's shards spun in concert, twisting to avoid the streak of hellfire while its wings remained fixed. Bolts passed harmlessly through it and the Angel pushed itself in a wide arc to turn about, shards glinting in the sunlight. A cold shiver gripped tight around her spine.

" _Hang on, I'm getting signal errors… the Eva's back is pinned to a building facing – the hatch can't open!_ "

" _Then get an engineering crew on-site! Asuka – you need to get this done, **now**_."

"I know that!" she cried, falling back several blocks through the city. To her right, she spotted Shinji's fallen prog-spear. Bolts spat at the Angel, stopping short. The trigger clicked. Her counter blinked red.

"Shit."

* * *

Asuka wasn't going to go see him.

She'd decided it the minute her Eva was recovered to the launch cages. In fact, she wasn't going to think about him at all the entire day. Why should she? He sure as hell wouldn't, and it wasn't like her being in his hospital room would make any difference anyway. Now that she was here in Tokyo-3 it was time he understood which of them was the superior pilot. That asinine, selfish, over-confidant, _over-zealous_ little twerp. Running in to try and show her up. He deserved what he got.

It was all she seemed able to decide upon in the noise of the Evangelion cages, shrill with the screams of power tools and the indistinct hollering to the maintenance crews. Sour smells of burnt oil and campfire smoke assaulted her nose. Mechanisms crashed as Unit-01 was locked into place further down, its crew preparing it for emergency stasis. A group of them, orange jumpsuits already marked with stains, waited on a gangway down the line. Some gripped the railing, heads hanging, while others took their hats and twisted them, pacing back and forth. A few simply stared, a palpable despondence weighing on their shoulders.

Asuka couldn't stand it. Already changed and dressed, she hurried away from the chaos of the cages and departed for the surface, gaining her stride once she boarded a railcar that began a steady climb along the GeoFront wall. On the opposite end was an elaborate network of scaffolding and mezzanines, engineers patching up an impact that had left rippled and tears in barrier. She found herself pressed up to the window, watching the landscape grow smaller and smaller, until she was right among the handful of skyscrapers still suspended in battle mode. She could see HQ's pyramid, a tiny blue gem amid patches of black forests and rugged hills the color of clay.

It awed her that something like this could even exist. There was no other city in the world as advanced, and it was part of her job to protect it, she knew. There was a time when the thought of doing it alone had weighed on her, even if she took immense pride in being one of the elite few that could.

At the moment, she may as well have been the only one. Sure, the other two pilots were there, but one of them she had yet to meet and the other... Shinji wasn't just some no-name pilot she could brush off as insignificant, no matter how much she might have wanted to. That's what really made it so unbearable.

Trying again to dispel her discontent, Asuka fell back in her seat and crossed her legs, glancing at her watch. Only an hour ago she'd been released from her NERV-ly duties, the most tedious of which had been the debriefing. Simple enough, if not impromptu. Misato hadn't even been the one to give it to her, busy with the buzz of post-op. Instead it was some tech from the command center. Ao-something. She couldn't remember.

Then it had been a horrific process being directed to the changing rooms outside the Eva cages, again. Although the shower had probably been the best in her life, if only because of how awful the lead up had been. Just soaking in steaming streams had been a relief. To immediately flatten the pure serenity that had brought was the fact she hadn't packed much in the way of clothes with her carry on. Her dress was done for the day and she had no desire to throw the thing back on. Not that it was difficult, but she felt its impact had been horribly deflated and she wasn't going to expend the effort if she didn't have to.

The NERV train at last came to the surface, arcing along the edge of the the city by its southern mountains. On the outskirts Tokyo-3 was a tangle of compact shacks, bars and run-down businesses strung together with a haphazard array of telephone lines. Among them were sleek, modern buildings that slowly phased them out until there was nothing but an ordered maze of skyscrapers, looking like they belonged to another world and had appeared there by some cosmic slip in dimensions.

From her waning vantage point she could make out the crumbling, twisted paths of destruction carved out in the earlier battle. She tried to associate each one with a moment in the fight, tracking the movements made, the constant setbacks she'd been forced to endure. All thanks to her co-pilot.

He'd ruined everything.

She supposed it wasn't much different from before. When they were younger there had been a point when Asuka realized Shinji was holding her back. He was smart enough, but there was a clear gap in their abilities and even he knew it. She could admit that at least when it came to extra-curricular, she wasn't very good at things like playing violin or transliteration and anything at all related to sports outside of tennis. She just worked harder at her short comings than everyone else, so they never confused excellence for weakness. Especially not Shinji.

Asuka contemplated this as the train brought her ever closer to the steel monoliths, eager to be out of the frigid air conditioning. A sleeveless button up tee and shorts weren't well suited to cold. The car squealed into its berth and the doors parted to a wall of heat, making her regret her haste to depart. She descended into busy streets, unsure of her destination. The station let off just on the border of downtown, where she joined step with herds of people moving under a curving stretch of road. Blocky supports arced over it, trains rattling above them. Between the gaps in causeways were those massive towers, unmoving and strange in purpose through the twisted lens of electric cables and power boxes.

She started to move against the flow of traffic, though no one was disturbed in the least. Her hair occasionally drew a curious glance or two, but nothing more beyond that. Every open surface along the sidewalks was either a restaurant, store front, or LED grid to display colorful, splashing advertisements. The scent of spice was what drew her along, sharp and overwhelming to her foreign nose. It was mingled and choked by hot rubber and gasoline boiling and dissipating in the summer afternoon, except it should have been fall. Strangest of all was that she could hear the cicada bugs even in the middle of the city, louder than they had ever been back home.

There was one time she'd convinced Shinji to try and catch one for her, up until she saw the creatures up close and kept them far away, revolted. Whenever they fought he would threaten to stick them in her hair.

"I'll beat you if you try." She held up a fist for emphasis.

Shinji shrugged, scratching his chin. "Then I'll do it while you're sleeping."

" _Shinji Ikari_ ," she said, planting her feet and pinning him with a finger, "I will never forgive you if you do!"

She couldn't remember exactly how old they'd been.

Though it wasn't a very conscious choice, Asuka had slowly stopped spending so much time with Shinji, and later rationalized that it was so they wouldn't be friends and she could go to Heidelberg without worry; the college her mother had decided on before she could even walk. It was a high bar and she was expected to reach well above, and she would. If only it had been that simple. Things were never simple when it came to her friend.

He was just...

She'd always tried to push him to apply himself. For a while she even thought it would be nice if he could go to college with her. Asuka had quickly dissociated from that idea. If nothing else than because it was absurd to want his company that badly. Not to mention the fact he couldn't have cared either way. Shinji never put more effort towards education than was required and constantly groaned about the workload, to the point where she snapped at him whenever he brought it up. Then he would sulk and she'd spend the day damning him for making her work so hard at not feeling miserable as a result.

There were plenty of times she genuinely hated him for it. Maybe she still did, at least a little. But she couldn't afford to slack off, to be childish and immature. If she wanted to get into Heidelberg, she had to work that hard. He didn't understand and he didn't care.

Ugly and guffawing laughter from a convenience store made her stop short. Two men within continued their conversation, a familiar voice coming through the hollow sounding speakers in the ceiling. It sounded like Tatsuro, though she couldn't peg the song. _Someday_ , maybe.

Turning to the road ahead, NERV's red warning labels tagged the walkways and street side gridlock gates. Whether she followed them on feel or maneuvered a random path, Asuka didn't know, only that she ended up in a place quieter in the city than anywhere else, devoid of the same hustle and bustle she had been absorbed in. Beyond a wall of fencing she could see wreckage from the earlier battle – one of the severed umbilical cables. A gust of chilled air brushed her right shoulder, drawing her eyes to a wide tunnel lit with soft orange bulbs.

She crossed the street to enter and reached out to touch the wall. Cold shivered through her finger tips, which reveled in the smooth marble-like surface as she brushed them across it.

The corridor opened to a groaning cavern that brought with it whispers of a dream she used to have, yet there was a degree of comfort that took residence in her step. The space was wide and open and grand, in a brutal and simplistic sort of way. In all directions pillars thicker around than buses reached at least ten stories high, a concrete woodland that stretched into obscurity. Sunlight pooled in from the edges of the forest, giving the place a welcoming sort of calm. Water pattered somewhere nearby in the semi-darkness and above her the rumbling of trains and traffic resonated through the ceiling. The sounds of it rolled like thunder.

Even though she was no longer climbing a dark shaft to reach the surface, somehow it felt like she was still inbetween. Still isolated.

A faint huff echoed to her and she stilled, searching the wide expanse. At the far end, by a waterway run off, a black four-legged figure moved through the light, soon absorbed in the white radiance from outside. Small streaks of blood trailed behind it.

Every instinct in her said to turn-tail the other way and never look back, but Asuka approached the beast carefully, unable to distill her curiosity. It had made its way down the run off, to a narrow bridge along what looked like an old floodgate, built over and forgotten by Tokyo-3's superstructure. Beyond it lay a beach touching the waters of lake Ashi, overburdened with vegetation and trash.

At first glance she guessed it was a wolf, but dismissed that as absurd. It wasn't as large as one might be and wore a shorter snout from what she remembered of pictures. It's side heaved to produce little more than labored sighs, each one a rasping wheeze that sounded like it was tearing up the poor thing's throat.

"So you can't breath either," she said, unwilling to move any closer. Sharp eyes regarded her without fear or worry. Dark blood oozed from deep punctures in its neck. Around its ankles clung raw, scabbing skin and across its side were tears where hair no longer grew. It must have been fighting.

A whine squealed from its throat, making her feel at a loss. "What the heck am I supposed to do about it?" she mumbled. It wasn't her fault it was dying.

What else could she do?

As if in answer, the beast stilled and its eyes fixed on nothing. The space around her fell mute.

Asuka tilted her head, puzzled. By its face a small seedling had sprouted through the rusted grating. Bits of moisture clung affectionately to its lavender petals, some sliding off to welcome the earth at its stem. It looked like a mountain flower of some sort, or maybe a bellflower? What was the Japanese word for it... kikyou? That couldn't be right, not all the way down here. If Shinji were there he'd have the name in a heartbeat. In fact, he could probably name the flower from kingdom to genus, and would know when it came in bloom and where it was found most in the world.

It reminded her of the Amaranthus back home. Since discovering its place among the roses vacant she had spent some time wondering where it had gone. Until she came across it in the clearing by the old olive tree, dead, but colored the same vibrant purple she remembered. Among other things she thought forgotten. She'd never been able to find the tree again after that.

Asuka frowned and all at once her limbs ached and she wanted to vomit. Bending to close the wolfdog's eyes, she stopped half way, considering it nice to think that he were still staring at the foreign blossom.

In the end, she left the beast and the flower as they were, feeling she had strayed long enough.

* * *

Ever since she was little Asuka had hated hospitals. It wasn't just the sterile echo of long, wide corridors or the nasal burning scent of bleach, a pleasant aroma compared to some of the older hospitals in Germany. Which had been erected in the seventies and, despite constant renovation, still retained the damp, heavy stench of decay. No, it was a myriad of things, mainly the pathetic dregs of patients and the indifferent faces of the nurses and doctors. The throwaways and seniles. It burnt her fuse so short that if anyone passing had dared utter a simple "hello" she might have exploded on them.

But the only voices she heard were from hospital staff and patients down the halls, passersby paying her little mind. Every so often the PA called for doctors and nurses and penetrating it all was the clicking of the clock on the wall across from her. For what must have been the thousandth time that afternoon, she regarded it with a baleful glance.

It was nearly six o'clock now. Asuka had been told to wait since four and had run out of things to do on her phone in the first fifteen minutes. She knew it was pointless to go hound the staff at the information desk – they would let her see him when they decided he was ready. Which was taking forever. Maybe she could have gotten up and wandered around the hospital, but that thought was even less appealing than leaving NERV's in-house facilities to explore the GeoFront. The place was still being d-coned from the battle before last anyway. She had hoped to go out and see everything with Kaji, but he'd been put to work before they even left the tarmac, and she was done wandering around topside by herself.

Not that she wasn't excited to finally be at Headquarters. She was, but with the battle and everything... and the fact she'd only a few hours ago been told she wouldn't be staying with Kaji and would instead be provided an in-house set of sleeping quarters – Asuka was beyond fed up with everything, and she'd only just arrived.

So here she was, dressed as casually as could be and waiting to see her friend of eight years. Not counting the last couple, since he clearly hadn't himself. Why should she? Asuka huffed and looked down the hall. Cold metal beneath the seat touched her leg. Memories of the Kloster trickled through her.

At the age of eleven, Asuka wanted there to be a reason. A concrete reason as to why she no longer felt the way she once did. A reason would have made it easier. It would have made her feel less guilty. It would have made the dissolution less strange and painful.

It was why she hadn't told Shinji when she received her acceptance letter to Heidelberg. She was overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect of going to college in such a grand city. Where Roman Legionaries had once made camp and crossed the river Neckar, forming the foundation for Bergheim, the mountain home. Up on the hillside stood the seven-hundred-year old red stone walls of Heidelberg Castle, which watched over the town below. Walking through the streets had reminded her of the countryside she grew up in, not that she'd been particularly happy there. Not, at least, while in her father's estate, cooped up in a house of burnt siennas, charcoal grays and deep-sea greens.

Back before she'd gone, she knew Shinji wouldn't be excited about it. More than that, it was a solid reminder of how completely far removed she would be from him, an idea as invasive and heavy as the stones climbing Heidelberg. She could have told him months in advance, but time and again a sledge hammer of doubt shattered her nerve, which was a perplexing rarity. Or she talked herself out of it so thoroughly with arguments and counter arguments she'd have made any silver-tongued lawyer envious.

But that was just it, Asuka had never been one to hold back what was on her mind. With this she was, again, forced to acknowledge how differently she treated Shinji compared to everyone else. She decided then to reaffirm the promise four-year-old Asuka had made to herself. Besides, it was around then that he'd started avoiding her at school for a second time. Sure, she had her advanced classes, but he never even looked her way during lunch when she sat with the other girls, or sent her a text between classes as had become normal, usually catching a train or bus home before her. At first, she hadn't even noticed it. She was busy with her studies and he'd already decided he didn't care about that.

Gaelle and Laura were there to keep her company too. She'd made friends with the two girls a couple of summers ago when Laura, sitting down for her first day in advanced placement, turned to her and said she had a crush on Erich Koellner. He was a flat-jawed boy that sat at the front of the class, with short cropped sienna hair and bright green eyes. She didn't care much for that, but she did like his white teeth, which she could see whenever he smiled. Asuka commented on as much, which got Laura to giggling and Gaelle, sitting just behind them, whisper-shouted that she'd heard he and Lisa Schneider had kissed by the dead willow tree in the park. The waterfall of gossip formed a tight-knit friendship.

Asuka spent most of her time with Laura as they went between classes and visited the Kloster's menagerie of teachers during downtime. All while they talked about which of the girls said what, to who, and how terribly shallow all of them were. They shared secrets, painted nails, and occasionally braided one another's hair. Though Asuka never let them touch hers.

Then Laura disappeared.

The strange thing was, Asuka still saw her in classes and moving about the Kloster with Gaelle. But for whatever reason, she had stopped existing in Laura's world. Asuka tried to figure it out, to understand what had happened to cause her friend's sudden and cold shoulder. Her calls were ignored, and the two avoided her between classes. Occasionally, Gaelle would shoot her an apologetic look, but didn't really speak with her again.

It was around then, during calm and dry Autumn nights, when Asuka arrived home from another day of forcing a smile on her face and putting up with shallow peers, that she felt Shinji's absence creeping over her. Like the malformed shadow of him that still decorated the wall next to her bed. How she sat in front of her mirror and grew sick to the point of nausea staring at her own reflection, scratching charcoal over the surface until she couldn't recognize herself anymore. No one came to knock on her door in the mornings. Nights in her room were silent and still, as though she'd been buried under miles of dirt.

She wouldn't be ignored anymore.

Asuka really wanted to hurt him. When she finally managed to catch him out by the lockers, her hand came to rest over his throat as he put his back against them. She didn't squeeze or keep much pressure there at all. In fact she didn't even know why it had moved there to begin with. Harsh orange afternoon bled through the windows. He had just finished a practice game and no one else was about. It was just the two of them, mere inches apart.

She asked him what his problem was and all he delivered were useless, pitiful excuses she didn't believe for a minute.

" _Liar_ ," she hissed. Everyone was a liar. Even him.

After that, she remembered neither of them actually said anything, though an entire conversation could have passed between them for the amount of time she kept her hand on the warmth of his neck and his glare rested to something softer, but resolved. What exactly happened beyond that, Asuka couldn't say. That's how angry she must've been. It was the only time true blanks in her memory appeared.

But by the end they were friends again, all the while she couldn't figure out why he had stopped talking to her, like Laura and Gaelle had done. Was it something she did? Her pride forged reasons for the others, found dark pits to abandon them in kind, and she soldiered on. But for Shinji there were no answers. Only doubts and distance. Of all people, why him?

She kept him at arm's length for a while. Not that it mattered much, since only weeks later she was off to Heidelberg. She moved in with an Aunt and Uncle, though would have much rather lived with Kaji, her NERV assigned on-campus guardian. The others she never saw, mostly because she rarely spent any time in their company. Either she was in her room writing papers or on the balcony studying for the next mid-term. There was no one else her age at the college and all of the older kids gave her curious looks whenever she walked to and fro. Some even had the gall to ask her where her parents were or if she was lost. Asuka kept a pleasant face and offered polite remarks while she imagined elaborate fantasies of verbally shaming them in public.

Once the other students caught on to why this mere eleven-year-old was attending the lectures and speaking with the professors, their demeanor turned sour. Often, she heard them talking when they thought she wasn't listening, and made herself take in every harsh word and snide criticism. She took them and hardened her skin. They were jealous, and why shouldn't they be? It was during those demeaning talks, the walks down the marble corridors to other classes and the droning of the professors in the lecture halls, where she started to think of Shinji and realized that she wanted to see him again. To hear his voice.

They'd spoken infrequently since her arrival and she sent the occasional message when she felt like it. When she didn't get a response the thought of sending anything faded and she became further engrossed in her studies. It had been a few months since either had said anything to the other. For a little while, she thought of texting him again, probably more than anyone should have thought about anything, until it started to affect her scores. So she deleted his number. That way she wouldn't be tempted, and wouldn't have to be so distracted anymore.

It only worked for a few weeks. The longer she tried to ignore the feeling, the more intense and pressing it became. So at last she decided to send him some throw away text like, "hey, how are you. whats up?" whatever, no big deal – except she couldn't remember what his number was. She could grasp the classical dynamics of spinning tops, but couldn't remember her best friend's stupid phone number.

That brought with it another line of questioning. Was he really her best friend anymore? It wasn't something she dwelled on at length, his status as her friend, at least. Shinji was always there, whether she wanted him to be or not, he was. Even when she was away from him, he managed to subtly invade her thoughts. Sometimes, he arrived to replay that last night she'd seen him in person back at the estate, when she'd been so beside herself with his silence she'd gone into his room and torn the place apart. Looking for that stupid drawing he'd made of her. That would get his attention.

Her train of thought was violently derailed when patient 219's door hissed open. A nurse in blue, unflattering smocks and short haircut came out with a busy tension in her step, though looked unconcerned. She nodded to Asuka, "You can go see him now," and then she was off, papers in hand.

Asuka fussed with her hair and checked her phone to see if some excuse to leave had appeared. No, she'd come here to face him. So that's what she was going to do. The door whispered aside as she approached, revealing a row of empty beds, save for one at the very end next to a wide window. He was lying with his back to her, facing the unfiltered white light of the GeoFront. A heart monitor chirped softly in the background. She started to take a step forward, or it felt like she did, but her legs didn't actually move.

Shinji's head perked up and he rolled over, at first perplexed, until his eyes took her in and became guarded. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I just like wasting time in hospitals. Why else would I be here, idiot?" she bit back, insulted that he wasn't at all privy to her past three hours of suffering at his expense. As if in reply to her thoughts, he scoffed, but didn't say anything else. Asuka took a scathing moment to calm down, watching the cautious, skeptical way he regarded her and that stupid way his eyes blanked when he was annoyed, or the way he tensed as if ready to bark back. It only further twisted the tight bundle of nerves in her stomach.

So Asuka marched forward and pinched his nose.

"Ow! Asuka! Cut it out!" he flailed at her hand, cringing at an unseen sting in his right arm. She let go and he glared at her. "What's wrong with you?"

"Me?! What's wrong with _you_?" she cried, all of her pent up anger for the day tumbling out.

"I'm the one in a hospit–"

"So? You're the idiot who charged in! Did you think you were going to beat me?! You have no one to blame but yourself!" she hollered, realizing right then she hadn't been upset about anything else all day except that. How he always managed to drag under her skin and push every button without ever trying was – was – _infuriating_.

Shinji balked, overtaken by a flash of resentment. "I can take care of myself. My unit has three ki–"

"Your unit has two, liar. One of them is the other pilot's." she was up to the edge of the bed now, glaring down at him, just waiting to quash out any more fires of resistance. But he clamped his lips together, hands balled into fists over the sheets.

"You haven't changed at all," she said.

"You either."

" _Arschloch_ ," she spat.

He deigned not to respond, compounding her frustration, and some guilt on top of that. Which only pissed her off all the more. The beeping of the heart monitor became louder and a bit more rapid. She looked away just after he did, focusing on the IV drip next to his bed, recalling with a shiver the feel of the needle pressed into her elbow. Beyond the window lay the GeoFront, the hospital planted on one of the hillsides rising along the outer wall. Most of what lay before her was an expanse of brittle, black tree trunks.

"So what, did you just come here to yell at me?" Shinji bit out quietly, drawing her attention back. He was staring down at his hands.

"No," she grumbled, pulling a chair to plant herself. He shifted in bed, trying to sit straighter, but ultimately sinking into the pillows again. A slight pang of sympathy tickled her, but she didn't move to help. She was still angry with him.

The reports of the heart monitor consumed all else for a time.

"I didn't mean it," Asuka said, staring towards the foot of his bed.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes, letting them rest on the array of medical equipment at his back. Anywhere but his face. "That thing I said about the Angels, in the hangar bay, whatever."

A pause choked between them. "Okay."

Asuka bounced in her seat, the quivering muscles in her stomach turning into a ripping stab that made her want to yell at him. "Yeah, so stop being so pissed off about it," she said, doing her best to sound non-chalant.

"Okay."

That earned him a glare and she shook her head, but her words were quiet. "I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall."

"What are you so mad about?" he asked, sullen, like he'd already checked out of the conversation.

 _Alot of things!_ she wanted to shout. _Ooh_ , how she hated him for this. "Nothing." she said, crossing her arms and slouching back in her seat, lips pursed. Asuka felt the heat rising to her face, coloring her cheeks red to match. Shinji didn't say anything else, and she avoided acknowledging the space he occupied.

"What, um, what happened? During the battle?" he asked.

Asuka gave a lopsided shrug. "After you were taken out, I drained my magazine backing through the city. It was coming around again and the rifle wasn't doing squat anyway, so I grabbed your prog-spear from where it got stuck. When it lunged at me – I pierced the core." she refrained from grabbing her stomach, able to feel the wounds like they were her own. "It still got me, though. My Unit-two has all these ugly holes in its side now," she whined.

In the moment, her panic had swelled to choking as the comms overflowed with Unit-01's damage reports.

Shinji hesitated, some unspoken thought clamped behind his lips. "I'm glad you won," he said, holding a gaze on her for the first time since they met off the plane.

It took her aback and her heat dissipated. "Like there was ever any doubt," she said, toying with her watch. She might have wanted to break him down for what he did earlier, but she wasn't about to bleed him dry over it. Despite her claim that he hadn't changed at all, there was something that began to create a separation from the girlhood friend of the gardens in her mind and the Shinji in front of her now. She didn't know what it was, but it inhabited every part of him, and she wasn't as sure what to do about it as she was ten minutes ago.

"You're still wearing those?" his eyes stuck to the top of her head and he poked his own.

She perked up, confused, hand rising to her hair. Her fingers brushed the smooth neural clips. She wore them so often she forgot they were even there anymore. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"You only need them for piloting."

"Wow, really? I had no idea. You're so smart, Shinji, golly-gee." Internally, she winced. Why did he have to make such dumb statements?

He was less phased this time. "Unlike you, I'm not obsessed with my Eva."

"I'm proud, not obsessed. It's completely different."

"Hm, yeah," he mumbled, disagreement hanging from his slightly quirked mouth. Another minute of silence enclosed them.

"Hey," he was looking out the window again when she finally spoke. "Do you still play the cello?"

Shinji glanced over, shrugging. "Sometimes," he said, contemplating his hands, then back to her. "Why?"

"I don't know, just asking."

"Oh… well, how about the violin?"

"No," she said, allowing herself a melancholic sigh. "I always hated it. At least you like playing the cello."

That earned her a grimace. "Not really."

Asuka leaned forward, fist propping up her chin. "So why do you still do it? Are you that bored here?"

"I guess it's just habit. Sometimes I like it."

No eleven-year-old stayed up into the early morning playing cello just out of habit. She shook her head a little. "Yep, still the same old dull, drowsy Shinji."

He huffed at that, but there wasn't a laugh hiding beneath it. "Sorry to bore you."

"No, you're not."

"You're right, I'm not," he said, sporting a flat smile that looked more like a grimace. That made her bristle and she offered a disgusted face, sticking her tongue out at him, which managed little more than a chuckle in the form of another huff. It was a start. At some point they'd drifted into German, but she wasn't sure where. Probably when she'd called him an asshole.

"Do you still pray?" he asked.

"Not since I was nine," Asuka hummed.

"Really? So you just lied to Ilka for two years?"

Her brow dipped. "It wasn't lying! She never asked, so I never had to cover up the fact that I wasn't. Besides, I still write to her, unlike _someone_." her leg bounced irately and for a moment she regretted the jibe, utterly loathing how this entire interaction felt like walking on eggshells. But part of her, a very tiny part she'd taken with her from the garden, felt this was familiar.

"Sorry," Shinji said, sounding like he genuinely meant it this time. "Guess I just... didn't think anyone would care once I left."

Asuka frowned. "Don't tell me you're sorry. It doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah... I guess not."

"Oh, no one cares if I'm gone, poor me," she said in her best Shinji voice. "I forgot how dense you are." Like before, he held his tongue, that storm of resentment billowing in his expression again. Asuka flicked a hand through her hair, finding something of immense interest across the room. "She kept asking, you know. Until I told her I hadn't talked to you in months either."

Shinji made a thoughtful noise. "Do you have her address still?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I want to write her a letter."

"You're just writing it 'cause I told you to, and 'cause you feel guilty."

"No... I miss her too."

Asuka gave him a look that said _'what to do with you?_ ' without hope of an answer. "Would you ever do anything without someone to drag you by the collar?"

Shinji made an annoyed _tch_. "Yeah. I did plenty after _you_ left."

Asuka found the simmering temper she'd held since entering the room fading into something else, like the heavy clouds of thought that had kept her in such a sour mood on the flight to Japan. She relived some of them in detail, for a flash. The hot needles of dismissal returned. "You seemed pretty busy. Hard to believe since you never did anything."

"I actually had other friends. It was nice."

"Good. I got pretty tired of you following me around all the time. Like a sad little puppy. What kind of person stays in another country and only makes one friend?"

"The kind who isn't allowed to leave," he said, an edge slipping into his tone.

"Yeah, whatever."

Shinji played with the sheets in his hands, creasing them in his lap. "Asuka, what are you even talking to me for?"

Asuka didn't let her expression move, sliding an errant strand of hair behind an ear, lips pursing. At once it seemed an insurmountable task to divulge all that was on her mind. An undefined mess she couldn't possibly sift through in a word or two. Not even the smallest thread of it, the one that had brought her there to see that he was still in one piece, though she had no reason to believe otherwise. The words wouldn't come. Not in the way she wanted. No. She couldn't tell him that. "I got bored," she said, sighing. "They're still delivering my stuff and I don't want to go back to the Headquarters suite. There's nothing to do there."

"Oh," he said softly, hands stilling. Was that disappointment? "Where are you staying?"

"Imperial Hotel."

"No, I mean where are you going to be living?"

"Oh, I don't know." Her hand made a lazy swat to the side. "Somewhere in the GeoFront block, I think. Where do you stay?"

He nodded skyward. "In the city. Out in the valley by Gora."

"Where's that?"

"It's up to the east, by Mount Myojogatake."

"They let you live out there by yourself?"

"No, I live with Misato. I can't stay on my own unless it's in the GeoFront block."

"That sucks. I can't wait to live on my own." That was only a bit of a lie. Actually, she was a little jealous that Shinji got to live with his guardian and she didn't. Kaji had often brushed off the topic of sharing space whenever she brought it up. It wasn't necessary for her to live with him, but she hated her extended family and none of them really seemed to like her either.

"It's okay," Shinji said with a bit of a smile. "Misato's kind of a slob, but I don't mind, I guess."

A smirk found her lips too. "You can't stand it. You used to almost cry if I left my socks on the floor." She could list all three incidents.

"No I didn't…" he muttered, though his eyes said 'please don't bring that up', and she mercifully obliged. "But yeah, it's a bit annoying."

"So why don't you move out?"

"I've thought about it, but…" she could see his mind shift, how it grappled against gray, heavy mountains weighing on his mind. He shook his head. "It's okay."

"Idiot," she sighed, debating on whether or not to hit him in the arm. Now that she thought of it, he wouldn't stop fidgeting with it, or occasionally pinching his hand. She nodded with her chin. "What happened to your arm, anyway?"

Shinji regarded it like he'd only just noticed. "Oh, this was from the last battle," he shrugged it for emphasis. "It's not broken or anything, they just don't want me using it too much. Ritsuko says I'm lucky there wasn't any permanent nerve damage. That can happen if your sync-ratio is high enough."

It could've happened today. "That still doesn't answer my question."

Shinji's gaze found its way into his lap again as he recounted, adopting the same hard, hollow stare that had possessed him before launch. "The Angel took out Rei. It was just me. The Eva was about ready to stall from all the damage. I crippled the Angel or something like that, so it was going to self-destruct and… I thought if I killed it before that, there wouldn't be an explosion. I had my hand around the core – trying to crush it. But I... I couldn't do it in time. The blast blew Unit-one's arm off while I was still connected." He took the right hand in his left, pressing a thumb into his palm.

A splinter of doubt told her maybe she shouldn't ask, but, "what about the First Child?"

"She's okay," he said, growing a little more subdued. "They just prioritized Unit-one's repairs over zero's. But at the time..." he let his thumb travel up each finger, making hers tingle with the idea of the sensation. "Sometimes I wake up and can't feel it there, even if I'm looking right at it and touching it."

"They didn't really mention that part in training." Asuka considered her battle, being face to face with a monster. Much to her chagrin, in a flash it felt like all the training in the world couldn't have prepared her for that. It had helped her deal with the pain when Gaghiel closed on her, kept her focused through the panic and terror that might have overwhelmed her otherwise, not that she thought that was very possible. But the fear had still been there. She wondered if it had been that way for Shinji during his first sortie. "I don't think it's such a big deal, though."

She wasn't supposed to be afraid.

Shinji stared through the cieling. "I guess that's what Weissenberg meant… when he said there were some things he couldn't train me for."

Asuka hadn't thought about their old trainer in a while, and wondered when he had ever given Shinji such advice. She'd felt betrayed when the man finally left them. Just hearing his name had that feeling well up in her throat.

Shinji did something odd then, sweeping those old thoughts away. His mouth trembled like he was about to laugh, before the amusement fled, or was pushed down. But then it happened again, faintly. "Hey," he said, "do you remember when you hit me with that rock? After I pushed you in the pond?"

Her face pinched, then she bolted upright. "Oh, yeah! I remember you cried!"

He chuckled. "It hurt, _a lot_. I thought it was broken," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I think it's only a little crooked."

Asuka clicked her tongue. "Liar! It's just fine," she said, shaking her head. "God, I was so mad at you."

"You put, like, five bandaids on it, and you wouldn't stop telling me how it was my own fault."

"Well it _was_. Boys aren't supposed to be mean to girls, _jerk_ – and I thought all the bandaids would help keep it in place." The last part she mumbled.

"When was I ever mean to you?"

Asuka crossed her arms and gave him a 'really?' sort of look. "All the time. Remember when we were digging and you stuffed dirt down my dress?"

He made a face at that. "Only because you shoved some in my face."

"Then you pulled my hair-"

"You kept kicking me, I didn't know how to make you stop."

"It wasn't ever anything you didn't deserve," she said.

He scratched at his collarbone. "Yeah, guess you're right."

Was she? It didn't feel like it. "Can you not tell when people are joking?"

"No one jokes like that."

"No one you know, which is like, three people."

His eyes rolled. "Yeah, you know everything."

"Yep, I do, so quit while you're ahead."

That, at least, seemed to bridge the gap enough for some bare form of appreciation to slip into his expression. Or, more likely, she was reading him wrong. All the same, her nerves melted. They kept talking until the GeoFront was a deep ocean blue, its artificial lights just starting to trickle to life, and she forgot all about the wolfdog and its lonely flower.

* * *

Asuka had fallen asleep on the edge of the bed, head resting atop folded arms. Her hair was splayed out over the sheets from occasional shifting, mouth agape with blissful rest. Shinji lay curled up facing her, just as dead and dreaming to the world.

In the hallway beyond, the doctors and nurses were consulting in whispers, all trying to peer in through the ajar door. Until Misato cleared her throat, making them jump and turnabout. "Let them be for now," she said, "they've had a long day."

With only a few embarrassed glances and bowed heads, the staff dispersed, leaving her as the sole voyeur. She had come to talk to Shinji, even though it was absurd to even expect him to be up at this hour anyway. Maybe that's why she'd come so late. After meeting his med-evac at the hospital and following the ER staff to the ICU, she'd spent the rest of the afternoon wound tight with worry, thankful for the headache inducing distractions of post-battle. The following hours had given her time to stew over his disobedience, making her feel all the more at a loss. She'd been building up the courage to come by all day. Now a corded tension twisted itself from her core, shadowed with a sense of nostalgia.

The thought to take a picture of them together flitted across her mind, but she dismissed it as wrong somehow, catching them so vulnerable and unawares. Misato decided instead to take some of her own advice and left the two of them to their fatigued reunion. She'd tease them about it later. Or maybe she wouldn't.

* * *

When Asuka woke, bleary eyed and chin partly wet, the GeoFront beyond was dark, save for the glowing communes of workers stretched across crater filled forests. Her eyes stung, her breath stank and her skin felt heavy with sleep. The digital clock over Shinji's head read 23:09.

For a while, she sat in quiet and soft darkness, contemplating the sleeping Shinji with his bandaged arm tucked awkwardly beneath him. There were old nights when they'd slept in the same bed during German summers as children. But she wasn't a child anymore - neither of them were. He'd even said so himself.

She eventually stood, sensing it was time to go but debating it all the same. Exhaustion peeled away at her mental checks, allowing foreign and unwanted ideas to slither into her skull. Embarrassed, even ashamed, Asuka stepped back, embittered over how easily his presence came to her. Thoughts of the olive tree and what was left there entered with him, as they always seemed to, and she wasn't sure whether or not she forgave him. Or even if she could. There was too much that had happened in a day, too much noise in her brain like a downpour over sheets of aluminum.

So she slipped out to find her hotel up on the surface, leaving an empty chair in her place.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Yeah, so that interlude ended up not happening. Oh well. I know it's been quite a long wait, but I'd like to thank you for your patience anyway.

I just want to cover some expectations going forward:

The first is in regards to the Angels - we've seen all the old battles before and read dozens of variations of them thrice as much, _so as you've already noticed_ , I've decided on reskinning the Angels and overhauling their abilities. Nothing terribly different in this chapter, but that will come with future chapters. Names will remain the same.

I understand part of the appeal in reading an AU like this is seeing how the characters react differently to the same canon situations, but the Angels and battles themselves are there to reflect the internal and external struggles of the characters, so I thought it appropriate that since the characters are shaping up a bit differently, the challenges they face should reflect that.

I also know that some of you may not have envisioned such a big time skip. I obviously can't please everyone nor do I aim to, but I'll attempt to relate my reasoning by stating that Asuka and Shinji are the basis for the conflict in this story, so for me, her transfer to NERV HQ was the logical starting point of Act II. Shinji's time in Tokyo-3 by himself and more of Asuka's personal life back at the estate will be explored in the following chapters.

Either way your comments and criticisms are welcome, as always.


	12. Act II - Chapter 2: Exile

**Chapter 2: Exile**

* * *

"I'm not sure what to do, Ritsuko. I've already chewed him out over the Fifth Angel but he just… closes up. And now this…" Misato tilted her head, free hand swirling the half-empty mug of coffee in front of her.

"He seems to be withdrawing," Ritsuko said, computer keys clacking in the background.

Misato rolled her eyes, throwing hair away from her face. "Tell me something I don't know."

"The more you push him, the more he's going to disengage," she said in a sing-song fashion, "Isn't that what you called me about last time this happened?"

"You make it sound like a burden."

There was an amused tone from the other end. "Foisting your problems on others usually is, but I'm only making an observation."

Misato pushed her coffee away, crossing her legs. "What happened with the Fourth Angel was different."

"I should think so. He was reprimanded by you and the Sub-Commander after the fact for the damages to Unit-one and zero."

"I only got on his case when he holed up in his room for a week." And Shinji hadn't said a word to her throughout that time either, but she couldn't share that – just the thought of it twisted up her resentment and hurt from buried places. If he had just listened to her. If he hadn't–

"It wasn't as though he didn't show up for his responsibilities at NERV. Upset he didn't want to confide in you?"

"Shut up."

Quiet came over the line, allowing Misato a chance to glance at the metal chairs and tables littering the deserted patio just outside NERV HQ. She shifted and checked the watch head resting snug under her left wrist. It was about time to get going.

"He needs to understand that his actions effect everyone, not just himself," she said, inspecting her nails.

"Maybe he already does," Ritsuko said, but Misato didn't pick her up on it and the stream of thought was left to wander down the wide river between them. The woman made a thoughtful noise. "But now that you mention it, I think that was also around the time my department started drafting a schedule for cross-compatibility tests with Unit-one and Rei."

Misato stood and pinched the phone between shoulder and ear, tying her red jacket around the waist. "What are you getting at?" she asked, unable to disguise her annoyance. She left the mug and barely touched plate of noodles. A cafeteria worker would be along to pick it up.

"Look at his operational history so far," Ritsuko said, as though conducting one of her lectures, "in his first sortie against the Third Angel, a proving of his competence, he wasn't the one to kill it. It was Rei. Now take that into consideration with his last two battles and a pattern starts to become evident. It might look reckless on the surface, but consider that he's trying to be competent. More than that, he's trying to be self-sufficient."

Misato grimaced, acknowledging security personnel with silent nods as she walked. Was he? She tried to imagine him thinking that way. Misato knew it was important to him, knew how seriously he took his responsibility to pilot. But... did she really? She'd know him since he was just a boy trying to figure out who it was he was supposed to be fighting. After all that time, she still misstepped, still misread him. As of the last month, she felt like she didn't know him at all.

"I suppose," she admitted, barely, "but I thought he liked Rei, and now with Asuka here… I don't get that either. Ristuko, they were inseparable a few years back."

"I'm afraid I can't help you with that one. Whatever the issue is, they're going to have to be able to work together."

"I know. I can't have any more incidents like the last battle."

"That would be nice. From what I understand, the Americans are appealing to the UN Committee for reparations due to the loss of their prototype accelerator."

Misato clicked her tongue. "They're just upset they can't outfit their new Zumwalts with it. They'd be skirting the Valentines Treaty anyway, so I did them a favor."

"That's not how the DOD sees it. Truthfully, I think you're lucky to still have a job."

That gave Misato an unpleasant gut-drop. "Don't worry, I was given a not-so-subtle warning by the Sub-Commander during my after-action report." Just the memory of it had her reddening with embarrassment and no small amount of fury. It had been a long time since she'd been dressed down like that by a CO.

She boarded an escalator that would take her to the parking levels, shifting the phone to her other ear while Ritsuko spoke with someone on the other side. "By the way, I wanted to tell you," she said after they'd gone, "Shinji's sync-rate jumped to sixty-two percent during his last sortie. It isn't much, but better than what he's been doing."

"Doesn't he have a median sync-rate of seventy-two?" she asked.

"Yes, that's his average. Recently it's been declining. As of the last test, his median rate fell to fifty-nine percent. That's a thirteen-point decrease without any spikes in a month."

Misato leaned against the rubber rails, brow tight. For as long as she'd known him Shinji's scores had only ever increased, with small fluctuations here and there. Based on what Ritsuko had said earlier, she'd put a sure bet on such a sharp decline starting after his first battle. Was that it? Had she been so caught up in everything at headquarters once the Angels finally returned, that she'd missed… whatever this was?

"Do you think that's because of Asuka? Not the decrease, but from a couple days ago."

"Hard to say. It's within the realm of possibility," she said, reluctant.

Misato stepped off at a busy terminal, her gait slower than before as she searched for her car in the massive underground lot. The feeling wasn't unlike walking into a room and completely forgetting what she came in for. "You know he hasn't made any friends since moving here. Except for Rei, that is. I mean, sure, he talks to them, but I don't think any of them are his friends."

That received a dismissive hum. "Boys – men – are solitary creatures, generally speaking. They don't form social circles the same way girls do."

Annoyance plucked her. "Well, how about _no_ social circles? Like, at all – and at his age?" she snapped, sighing and allowing herself a moment to calm. Her friend patiently obliged. Eventually, she reached her car and started with another sigh. "I don't know. Maybe he doesn't want to try after what happened at his old school." That, and the incident with that boy a few weeks ago.

"That would make sense. Shinji is a conscientious boy, after all. What he's been given is a harsh responsibility." For a moment there was a quiet, if not fleeting, sympathy in her voice.

"Thanks, that makes me feel much better, Ritsuko."

"I didn't say it to make you feel better. It's a difficult burden these children have to bear, but what else can we do?"

Misato found her car, clambering in and slamming the door shut. Her key found the ignition. "I know… listen, I gotta' go. I'll talk to you later." They traded goodbyes and for a while Misato simply sat forward in her car, arms resting on the steering wheel.

When had everything started spiraling out of her control? It wasn't just the ever-mounting pile of overdue construction reports for repairs they couldn't pay for, or the constant complaints of overworked labor personnel, or the never-ending pining regarding departments that were over-budget and under-funded. All of that she could handle, though it felt less and less like she could stomach another civil defense assessment that month, it wasn't so bad as long as they still had the Evas. That was all that really mattered. So long as the city was still there, everything else was alright, and now they had Unit-02 and Asuka. That should have taken at least some of the weight from her, but all she could think about the next battle. Even dreaded it. It was the third time now Shinji had disobeyed a direct order.

Gehirn's Krypteia Program had always seemed like a good idea, when she didn't think about it very hard. That wasn't difficult, not when she'd been hot off dropping out of college and breaking up with a boyfriend she intended never to see again, intent to prove herself in the military and make herself someone who could fight the Angels when they returned. She knew they would. Misato might not have understood what exactly had happened to her during Second Impact, not back then, but she knew it wasn't over. It was only a matter of time. When she made it out of boot she'd been set on a path from her stumbling journey out of teendom. Stopped fucking around and grew up. Why wouldn't that experience do the same for anyone else? She'd made her way in a broken world and been put in a position to guide someone else through it. To make them competent and able.

What better way to do it than when they were young?

She'd watched him grow. Helped him learn. Seen him triumph and fail. Even when she was off in Tokyo-2 and later NERV Hakone, being groomed for a position with the command staff through her service with the JSSDF and the UN, she would think of him – even if it was only fleeting. He'd always been a serious and insular boy, but at least buoyant in a way she came to like. The more he learned, and the more he fought, the more the image of that boy faded – struggling to surface in moments of childish displays.

Shinji didn't smile much anymore.

If she'd paid attention, maybe she would have seen this coming. Could have done something to stop it.

Huffing through her nose, steeling herself, she rolled out of the parking garages beneath headquarters and glided onto highway 52 towards the medical wards in the mountains. When she got there Shinji was out front, lying on one of the shaded benches with his back to the road and wearing the last thing she'd seen him in – his NERV uniform. From where she was, he might have been mistaken for some homeless veteran and it was earning him some curious and even scathing looks from passersby. The uniform was likely the only thing keeping them at bay, including the officer standing down on the corner, contemplating whether or not to approach. Blinking, Misato brushed the idea away and pumped her horn. He must have been tired, laying out there like that.

The boy's head perked up and, with more energy than she would have guessed, gathered his things and came 'round to the side of her car. He clambered in and they exchanged hellos. Warmth eased over them as she pulled out onto the streets. Right away he popped his earbuds in and took to staring out the window. Her mouth tightened.

"Hey, how's the arm?" she asked, trying to sound perky and upbeat. Something other than deflated.

She was allotted a glance. "Hm? Oh, it's okay." Then it was back to the window.

Misato concealed a grimace. "Take your medication?"

"Yeah."

Metal rattled in a tall shaft along the GeoFront wall, her Renault bouncing as she rolled onto a rail car platform. Squeals echoed through the glass from other trains coming and going. Misato crossed her arms as they waited to ascend. Maple gold afternoon started to pour in through the ceilings high above. It would be rush hour by the time they made it topside.

"So, you got to talk to Asuka, right?" Misato asked, as though she hadn't been thinking the question for the past fifteen minutes and simply waiting to ask.

"Yeah."

She barely held back a sigh. "Well, how is she?"

Shinji shot her a glare. "Why don't you ask her?"

"Sure," she said, shifting in her seat. Her spine had gone rigid. "Just thought it would be nice to hear it from you, jerk." She slapped the power button on her center console, turning the radio on. Some 80s station filled the car. She recognized Anri's voice. The woman sang for a few minutes without interruption.

"Sorry," Shinji said, staring down at his lap. "I just don't really want to talk about it right now."

She felt her features soften. "How come?"

"I don't know. Just don't."

Guard rails shot up along the edges of the train beds, a buzzer signaling their imminent departure. A low whine began to rise around them as it lurched forward and, picking up speed, the beds began to jostle beneath them.

"I don't get it; you guys were always so close. Asuka used to throw a tantrum if we ever pulled you apart for training. Now I can't even get you in the same room without getting attitude," she said, at first to her windshield, pausing a moment to watch him. "Hm?"

He shrugged, silently grasping for words. Lost. "We just… didn't want to be friends anymore."

"And what about now?"

"I don't know," he said, finding the window again, as if he might discover an answer out in the dimly lit corridor. A wellspring of emotions coiled about her then, and she couldn't decide which she should attack first – so she didn't.

"Well, you're going to have to be friends," she said, adopting her soldier's tone. The only one that seemed able to reach him anymore. "What happened last battle isn't going to fly anymore. I need you two to be able to work together now that you're co-pilots."

Shinji made a small, derisive noise, refusing to face her.

"You hear me?"

" _Yes_."

The space between them was overwhelmed by the clacking of the rails and the soft tones of Anri singing. Red light washed over them at intervals, German summer festivals carried in the smooth beats. Misato washed a hand through her long hair, reflections flaring over her legs.

"Hey," she said, hoping to catch his eyes. She leaned forward, but he was stubborn if nothing else. "I was worried about you."

She saw it in his shoulders, in his posture, the way he continued to bore into the passing city blocks. _I don't believe you_ , they said, and that hit her harder than any word he might have uttered. Misato left the conversation as it was, feeling more dissatisfied with the wound between her and her charge than before.

* * *

Time was very important to Asuka.

Things rarely went unplanned in her world and never behind schedule. Most other kids her age were too busy slacking off, reveling in being young and immature, to care about how they spent their time. So they never bothered with watches, not that it did anything a phone couldn't as far as telling time, but having it latched to her wrist was a habit as much as it was a reminder that there was order somewhere in the chaos around her. Afterall, soldiers had been wearing them since the Boer Wars of the late eighteen-hundreds. Even her father had a collection in his study, his favorite an old Russian mechanical with cured leather straps. It had belonged to her grandfather, a veteran of the Korean War. What some had called the Forgotten War.

No one would forget her war, not when all was said and done. Everyone would know her name and what she did.

She thought of all this now because already fifteen minutes had passed by and she still didn't know what to do with the pair of orange sapphire earrings in her palm, sitting there like two tiny flames. Standing in her GeoFront suite, placed in a housing block overlooking the mountains, she debated endlessly whether to wear them.

They'd come in with her things and the small jewelry box she'd packed amid her summer dresses. Not that she wore them very much to begin with, jewelry or dresses, since getting away from her father and step-mother. If something had happened to the box in transit, these were the only pair of earrings she would have cared at all about losing.

On one of her visits to the estate, back when Shinji had gone for good, Asuka once stood outside his old apartment in the garden, a mere foot away from the ponds. She'd tried to throw the earrings in with the koi, who had only recently disappeared. Likely eaten by greedy herons. It took an hour for her to finally give it up and go back into the house.

She checked her watch, a simple red head piece and black leather strap, and found herself wondering if Shinji still wore one too. _Probably_. She thought with wan amusement. She'd forced him to adapt to one after a month of her arriving to wake him for school in the mornings. This period she remembered more distinctly than others – they were around ten. She had three separate alarms for the first hour of being awake. Each and every day was strictly planned, for the most part, and she kept track of each minute so they could reach the trains on time. Fully dressed, she would be completely dismayed at finding him lounging on his futon, in pajamas, unwashed.

They would end up running to make the 8:30 Berlin train in Bernau, miss it, and have to be driven to the Kloster. So she let him use one of her old watches and an alarm clock, blue and covered in daisies. Despite that he persisted with his lack of punctuality, and when she complained, declared that he was confident in her time estimations and used each minute to its fullest. Sometimes, he woke up early to read with her, sharing space on the big boulder out by the pond.

She used to like reading. When Asuka was growing up her mother's bookshelves were full of love stories and romance novels. It was one of the few things that was left of her after she died. Her father said she wasn't old enough to read them, but that hadn't stopped her from sneaking them into her room, part of her hoping he would catch her. The other part doing it simply because he had forbidden it. They were far better than the nonsensical fairytales she'd been made to learn in school, mired in cultural relevance lost from memory and always ending in tragedy. Her step-mother had once said, "stories are meant to teach."

But if those stories had taught her anything, it was to never be a woman like those from the oil paintings and books. Like the legend about Hippocrates' daughter, who was transformed into a hundred-foot long dragon by the envious goddess Diane, forced to dwell in an old castle and called the Lady of the Manor. She emerged three times a year and, if a knight should kiss her, would be turned back into a woman, making the knight into her consort and ruler of the islands.

Various knights tried, but all fled when they saw the hideous dragon, dying some horrible death soon after. There was one who, knowing nothing of the dragon, came to the castle she inhabited – finding her in her human form. But he was no knight, and his kiss would not break the spell, and she told him so. He ventured to the Hospitallers and passed their trials, returning a full-fledged knight. But upon seeing the woman in her monstrous form cried out, and even he fled.

Why had Diane turned her into a dragon? Why did the knights seek her? Why did they flee? Why did she have to rely on a kiss to set her free?

It didn't make sense to Asuka then, and still didn't now. Those things had no place in her world, not anymore. She had no time for fantasies and stories. With a groan she dumped the earrings back in her jewelry box and shoved it away. It was time to get going already.

Asuka made sure she had her key-card before she left and, on her way to the shuttles that would take her to the skyward trams, checked her phone. Waiting there was a message from Kaji asking her to check in and she did so, with hearts and exclamation points.

Tokyo-3 was a different city in the morning, loud and full of life like Heidelberg had been. Everything and everyone moved in a disjointed concert and the streets were absolutely littered with other students of varying grades off to their respective schools. She strode on confidently, a smile on her face, a perk in her step. She checked her watch, stifling some annoyance at being behind.

* * *

It was something he could feel right away, deep down to his feet. Strong enough to be annoyed with as he sat at the kitchen table, yet undefined enough to be completely puzzled by. His pulse was okay, his arm felt alright – he didn't have to wear it in a sling anymore. There wasn't anything in particular he had to do today either, other than attend school. No sync tests at NERV and no actual tests worth noting. Pen Pen was still by his chair, chomping away on breakfast.

"What kind of genetically altered penguin can't get their own breakfast?" He asked. The creature glanced up at him with dismissive, beady eyes. Shinji sipped from his tea.

His mornings would never be the same. He wasn't sure how he knew that, especially since he woke like he always did to the same alarm clock, the same ceiling and the same stumbling slog from bed to shower, fresh clothes in tow. It pervaded everything in his space, as loud and encompassing as the summer cicadas, which seemed determined to sing their songs into Misato's apartment.

Shinji dumped what was left of his tea, shouldered his school bag and told Pen Pen he'd see him later. Then he was out the door and setting foot into the sweltering heat. As he set his SDAT to play, Miki Matsubara's voice started dancing in his ears. He looked at the old player like it'd morphed into a dead fish, and stood there for a moment while it ran, a few cars revving by. This track never played. He didn't let it. The song became distorted and far away as he yanked the buds from his ears and let them hang from his neck.

Shinji walked half a mile down a narrow road while his SDAT sang quietly to itself, reaching a sprawling train station that encroached over the buildings around it like a silver-coated weed. People bunched along the platforms, while men dressed like officers patrolled the edges. The route he needed was underground, a network of domed corridors held up on wide chrome pillars and filled with the hollow slaps of shoes and dry murmur of voices.

He passed through a bustling gate, piling in with dozens of others as a train whined into its berth. A surge of people flowed onto the platform, pushing past the waiting horde, who were already pushing to fill the open spaces before the train's departure. Shinji made it in last, grabbing onto a handrail. Beside him a girl, probably a high-schooler, leaned against the door, dressed in a red plaid skirt with a plain white shirt and gray cardigan two sizes too big. Pink headphones hung from her ears.

For Shinji, there was really only one thing to do when he started his new life in Tokyo-3: stop taking everyone so seriously; establish a proper distance between himself and everything else. Forget about bright morning roses and plaid skirts. It was an easy enough promise to keep when it was just him, Misato, and the penguin in their apartment.

Then he was enrolled in the Tokyo-3 south-east side junior high school, thrown to the wolves and expected to learn how to survive. He'd done that already. But unlike the _Kloster_ , where he was simply out of the norm, everyone here wanted to know about him, the unusual transfer student from Germany who was also Japanese – an enigma. Even living in a Japanese style home with a Japanese Teacher, he'd spent so long in Germany that he ended up stepping on everyone's toes whatever he did.

The Germans had formal ways of addressing people, but at least they were direct. Most Japanese were formal, exceedingly polite and insisted on beating around the bush for minutes before the entire purpose of the conversation was reached. Then there was the bowing. He understood it, had practiced it when interacting with Teacher, but the appropriateness of use utterly escaped him in every situation. He bowed when it wasn't warranted, or forgot to when it absolutely was, and barely participated when bowing extended beyond a brief exchange between stations of hierarchy.

Then there were the little things like learning to not walk around while eating his food, refusing a request and causing someone embarrassment, remembering shoes were taken off everywhere, and using last names for absolutely everyone.

Shinji was, to put it nicely, considered too forward and impolite by most of his classmates. They spoke ill of him in more stinging ways, and only when he was within earshot. So he gave up on trying to be polite. There were a few that warmed up to him despite his growing reputation, like Aida, Suzahara and Horaki and Shoho and Kirishima. They let him know a little about themselves in idle chat between classes, and shared small details of their lives with him while they cleaned in the afternoons. Despite his attempts to keep to himself, he listened. Perhaps he hadn't given up being polite entirely. When they in turn became curious, he made things up or answered in short, simple sentences.

He didn't take part in any of the club activities or school events, and this was a problem for the upperclassmen, some of whom took it upon themselves to try and straighten him out. They invited him to work for booths or stalls during fairs or encouraged him to accompany them to kendo club of baseball. If he didn't outright refuse, he would promise to attend if only to get them away from him for the time being. Either way, he became a reoccurring disappointment and for some that was an intolerable disrespect. More often than not he got into fights with the upperclassmen, putting to test all that he had learned under Weissenberg. He went home with a few scratches and bruises, but nothing compared to the fractures and tender ribs he left the others with. It felt good to win at something for a change.

That came to a head when he broke a third year's wrist. Not just any third year, but Kirishima's older brother, Jiro. He spent a day in the hospital while they ran x-rays, set the bones and made him a plaster cast, which he would have to wear for the next two months. Jiro had a part-time job dishwashing at a nearby Teishoku restaurant in the 5th block to help his mother and sister, and he couldn't begin working again for at least six weeks. They'd fire him for sure.

It was a rare day that Shinji was able to be in the same room as Kirishima, let alone talk to her. He was given a wide berth in hallways. People went out of their way not to speak with him. Even Hikari, perhaps one of the nicer girls he'd ever met, kept her distance. Misato reprimanded him but didn't do much beyond a serious talk at the kitchen table that night.

Quickly, no one wanted to interact with him for fear of being considered some crass brute by association, and that was fine with Shinji. Things had always been that way for him, it would have been foolish to expect otherwise even in his home country. He was used to not being liked.

Being outed as a pilot made it worse. He was met with some praise from those he knew better in his home room. But instead of merely being seen as a cold brute, it painted him as a callous elitist who thought he was better than everyone else and could do what he wanted because of his position in NERV.

In all that time, he didn't see his father once.

His days became quiet and uneventful again, inhabited only by schoolwork and simulation training at NERV. Unit-01 wasn't finished yet, so he wasn't even able to test with the core while it was being anchored. The other pilot he rarely saw, a specter haunting his periphery. Thinner and paler than most, he found himself glued to her every movement whenever he caught sight of her, both at NERV and school. Poisonous thoughts occupied him.

What kind of person was she? What kind of person was it that was able to stay in headquarters instead of being sent to Germany for training? As far as he could tell she had a dismal sync-rate, even if that was only from contact tests with the core instead of the actual unit. Still, it should have been higher.

So what was it? He watched her at school, how she spent the lectures and lessons staring at cloudy skies. Reading from well-worn physics books during break. She never brought lunch, using a NERV card to buy from the vending machines. Often something organic, eating delicately. If they were assigned to cleaning duty, he glanced her working with simple, unhurried ease. She took the same route to and from home every day at exactly the same time, in exactly the same seats.

Some days, she disappeared entirely.

At NERV, while the pit crews ran diagnostics or when they made weekly tunings to the command suites, he witnessed his father come down to the cages and talk with her and smile with her, eyes pinched with endearment. It was the only time her face gave way to any kind of expression, one of warmth and adoration.

It made him sick to his stomach.

Yet she never said anything to him. Never rubbed it in his face or did any of the things he had come to expect of other people. His disdain, slowly, transformed more into an honest curiosity. She never spoke with anyone at school and neither did anyone go out of their way to speak with her. After another month of this, he made a decision out by the track fields. He would talk to her, and at least only have to brace himself for silence or an unkind word from what could only be cold indifference. In a way, he admired it. If he could be more like that, maybe his father would treat him better. Maybe he wouldn't be so unbearable.

"I don't understand why he talks to you," he said, looking over his shoulder at her. It wasn't said with anger, he couldn't quite muster that. It was simply something that he desperately needed to know. She was sitting with her back to the fence, dressed in a swimsuit that never saw use. He was on the other side, sweating in his track shorts and T.

"Is that why you have been watching me?" She asked without even glancing at him. There didn't seem to be anything in particular she was looking at.

He turned a little more. "What's he like?"

"Don't you know?" From her, it barely sounded like a question. She was so soft spoken her voice was nearly swallowed by the hollers and noise of the other kids. He wasn't even supposed to be up there so close to where the girls were swimming, and some were casting him worried looks and whispering among themselves. Shinji turned away, facing the track field down the hill, boys leaning against the concrete inclines and leering up his direction.

"Isn't he your father?"

"He's not a father," Shinji snapped, a frown tugging at his mouth. Rei wasn't fazed, and he folded up some, embarrassed. "He might be my dad, but… he doesn't care about me. So why does he care about you?" The last part he was hardly able to utter.

Cicadas screeched over the schoolyards, the sun coming down in blazing sheets through a cloudless blue sky. Rei's head dipped, and she finally said, "I do not know."

Shinji got up and made his way down the hill, followed by curious eyes.

By then, Unit-00 was completed for testing and Shinji was slated as the pilot.

"I thought Unit-01 was supposed to be mine?" He had to admit being a little disappointed at being given the Prototype as his assigned unit. It was sure to be clunky and difficult to handle, despite Ritsuko's assurances that its command suite had just recently been overhauled to the 2014 standards.

"Once complete, yes," she said, giving him a patient smile. "Until then, you and Rei will rotate testing phases with the Prototype. We may as well start with some of the cross-compatibility tests while both of you are here, and while we have the time for it. Your sync-rate is higher, so you're up first."

His father stood in the control room that day alongside Misato, watching.

Shinji remembered clearing the absolute borderline – and then there was screaming, not from him, but echoing from the plug-depth. Claws of barbed wire dragged over his mind, carving into him as the LCL became thick and bloated – choking.

Then he was waking up in the hospital, feeling as though he had just slept for a hundred years. It was a sight and sometimes a feeling he had grown accustomed to, back when they'd done neural testing at Gehirn.

Sitting beside his bed was Rei.

"What do you want?" he asked, voice coming out as a weak rasp instead of an unkind sneer. Probably for the best, because he wasn't sure if he meant it.

The girl's stare was unwavering. "It will be my turn next."

Shinji grunted, shifting to face the window. "Guess I messed it up, huh?"

Rei considered the cart across the room, atop which sat a tray with water, the pouring pitcher half empty.

"She is closed to you. To everyone."

"What do you mean?" The presence of the Eva, what they had told him was its cyber-mind, had always been a pervasive but calm lull in the back of his nerves. A weight, even a passive presence. Never something so torrent and… angry.

"We are alike that way," she said, fixed on the pitcher. He waited for further explanation, but she said nothing more and remained at his bedside a little while longer.

Rei tried several times for hour-long spans to synchronize with Unit-00, but couldn't manage to get her sync-rate over the borderline. The process was usually so draining she had to spend a day in the hospital anyway just so they could monitor her for a little while. That and Ritsuko was concerned there might be neural contamination.

Most days, Shinji sat by the chainlink fence that cut between them at school, sharing in quiet company, talking very little and sometimes about his father. She didn't seem to mind him there and, if she was as cold a person as he had originally suspected, would have told him off already. He was fine with the fence sitting between them. He had decided not to talk to her in class.

When Rei finally cleared her borderline, it did something to the Eva. Hydraulics groaned, restraints snapping with wall-shaking force. Misato grabbed him – glass shattered, flecks of it pelting his head. Red lights washed the room as alerts sounded and voices hollered, one of them was Ritsuko. Over by a blood-stained console, someone gasped for air.

Another voice shouted for Rei, a figure in black throwing open the test chamber's stairwell door. Shinji pushed himself out of Misato's arms, her hands brushing his face for wounds. It felt like he was cut – everything stung – and she tried to grab him, but he wriggled free, stumbling down the stairs after his father. He practically fell down the last set, the man already half way across the chamber where Rei's entry plug lay. Unit-00 had its fingers sunk into the wall, stuck rigid while bakelite pooled down its back and over its legs. His father called for her again, setting his hands on the superheated hatch.

Shinji reached him as he hollered and staggered back. Glasses slapped the floor and the man lunged after the handles again, gritting his teeth as he struggled against the levers. Though Shinji's body moved, clutching one end of the manual release, his mind wondered in a rush if they would open it to reveal nothing more than a broken corpse. What if the safety harness had failed? What if the wall impacts had snapped her neck?

The rubber of his suit boiled and split open, fire lancing over his skin and frying the sensitive sensors beneath. The hatch burst open and Shinji tumbled, his father ducked into the plug and calling her as LCL spilled over their legs. Shinji propped himself up on an elbow, all at once weighed down with exhaustion. Past the Commander, he could see her in the dark of the plug, trembling. Though her pale face didn't move, scared eyes stared at his father.

"I see," Gendo said, staying with her half-way in the plug.

The paramedics arrived soon after and his father stepped aside, standing beside him in the pool of LCL. One of them approached the man, trying to inspect his burns. With them was Misato, who latched onto Shinji's shoulders and pulled him close, his back pressing against her.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, gripping him tight.

Gendo moved the paramedic away with an arm. His palms were black and boiled and red, bright blood seeping from the warped tissue. "See to the boy," he said, holding Shinji's eyes.

They set Rei onto a gurney and fit a breathing mask over her face. The man did as he was told, taking Shinji's hands to inspect and rifling through the kit slung over his shoulder. Shinji was barely present for the affair. His wounds were not so bad.

Gendo followed the paramedics as they moved the gurney, slipping through the LCL in their haste. Rei watched him as she passed, and Shinji realized he didn't hate her, and probably never could.

The activation test for Unit-01 came up soon after that, which he passed with comparative ease.

Unit-00 was suspended until they could work out the bugs. He spent quiet evenings with Rei, watching her sync tests from the control room and reading, subject to the occasional teasing of Ritsuko or Misato – sometimes both.

"Such a dashing knight, running to the rescue of his fair maiden!"

" _Stop teasing me_!"

They finished assignments in the harsh plainness of her apartment. She put as much effort into the homework as she did with everything else: minimal. It wasn't as though she was unintelligent. In fact, he only knew of one other teenage girl that read Schrödinger and Heisenberg in their free time. Much like him, school didn't seem to hold much importance in her day to day life. It was important to him only because it was important to others. Sometimes they ate together, usually anywhere that had a decent vegetarian menu. Shinji always paid with the prepaid card Misato loaned him, and later groaned about.

He woke early to gray mists that gave way to burning waves of heat and came home late to watch TV with Misato and the bird or lie in his room listening to the tick-tick of his watch until he fell asleep. It swam over his time at school, blurring all else around him. Pooled into him as he sat for long ours deep within NERV, in the Eva, wondering when the Angels would finally come.

There was a muggy Saturday morning they walked through the 3rd Block, the solar panel towers turned to catch the sun. A fruitless pursuit. Sluggish swells of gray gradually moved the skies and reflected in their surfaces. Out from one of their usual haunts, tucked in a well-maintained alley behind a series of apartment, they passed a row of uniform bikes, locked in place.

"We should rent bikes," he said.

Rei followed his stare. "Why?"

"Haven't you ridden one before?"

Rei shook her head and he remembered being utterly baffled by that. It was the same look Asuka had given him when they were six and she found out he couldn't swim. He could swim just fine now, but it had involved frantic flailing and near drowning with the worst coach on the planet.

He felt something slip from his grasp. "Oh, then maybe we shouldn't."

"Why?"

He gave a half grimace. "You don't know how, so you'll probably just fall and get hurt."

"I am used to pain."

He thought of her shaking inside the entry plug, small and weak. "That doesn't make it okay." Even as he said the words, they sounded fake – like someone else were speaking them through his mouth.

Rei didn't comment on that, fixed on the row of bikes as though she were trying to solve some difficult puzzle. They moved on and didn't talk about it again.

Thinking on it now, Shinji nearly missed his stop, shouldering his way through boarding commuters to make it off in time. Normally he met Rei at 9th Block station and they would make the rest of the trip to school together. Often in silence, like most others they shared the train with. Rarely was the whisper of conversation heard, everyone walled into their own spaces despite being packed so close together.

Some days they would even be accompanied by a buoyant Aida and perpetually peeved Suzahara. The latter seemed to go wherever the former was. Sometimes Shinji talked to Aida, but never more than superficial conversation. He was one of the few students that didn't seem to mind the reputation the rest of the school had given him. As for Suzahara… Shinji had decided he didn't like the boy very much, if only because he had decided the same. he had an unusual way of speaking, reminding him a little of Marcel from the _Kloster_.

Rei absorbed herself in a book, while the two boys became embroiled in animated talk about some video game or basket ball or the military. Suzahara normally found other boys from their school to talk to – often other members of the basketball team.

And then there was Shinji, sitting idle between them.

Sometimes, watching the two boys board their separate trains home, if they chose to walk with him and Rei that day, he thought of talking to them more. They were the only ones that spent any more time with him than required, but he suspected that was only because Aida was so interested in the Evas.

Then the departure alert would blare, and they would be gone, along with that frail line of thought.

He was on his way to school now after a long absence, all of it on his mind again. Shinji turned the corner along a high-rising wall, and there was Asuka leaning against it by the crosswalk, dressed in his school's standard white and blue uniform. A wash of memories welled to choking, unable to process any one and overflowing as a bloated mass of ill-defined feeling. They hadn't spoken since a couple days ago.

"Hey," she said, tossing hair over a shoulder.

"Uh, hey."

Asuka looked him up and down before turning back to the road. After a stretched moment, he stepped forward but kept some feet between them. They waited in the heat until the walk sign flashed green.

"So you made it to your hotel okay?"

"Yeah, it was pretty late so I had Kaji pick me up."

He nodded with his chin, "what's with the uniform?"

"It's called cosplay, right?" she asked, holding her hands behind her back as they walked.

"Alright," he sighed, yielding to her game. "Who're you supposed to be?"

She slowed her pace so they were side by side, but only to tug on his earlobe. "NERV's top pilot."

He glowered and jerked his head away, to which she laughed. "What's the real reason?" He asked.

Her smugness endured. "I'm under orders."

"To go to school?"

Asuka let out an impatient sigh. "Is there a limit to how many dumb questions you can ask in a day?"

"Fine. I don't care," he said, and started walking faster.

She clicked her tongue and he could imagine her eyes rolling. "I don't know _why_ I have to attend school here, okay? I mean, I've already graduated University. How asinine is that? It's just what command wants. That's what Misato said, anyway."

Shinji grunted in response and the rest of the walk to school was uneventful, save for the squealing of cars and discordant bustle of children. Asuka tried filling the silence several times but gave it up when all he delivered were non-committal grunts. The Third Municipal was up on a hill at the edge of the 3rd Block, built atop smooth concrete walls that flushed with the inclines. Asuka's head bobbed about as she took everything in, drawing curious eyes in return. They walked in side by side.

The school had been there before the city was thrown up and, despite extensive renovations, still held on to a well-worn and rustic foundation. The classroom was all pine wood floors and wide panels, with tall windows to let the light in. The desks were the same color as the floor, chipped and frayed at the edges. Wash cloths hung from the support bar of the chairs, along with other bits and pieces of import depending on the student. Notebooks, lanyards, and lunches. Itineraries and charts plastered the walls, giving the place the sense of an untidy office.

As he walked into class 2-A, his sight fell on Shoho sitting in the corner nearest the front window and talking with Kirishima and a few others. The latter, a girl with long black hair, made an effort of ignoring his presence. Shinji looked away as Shoho met his eyes, finding Asuka standing by the door and waving to some passing students she'd caught in greetings.

"I'll, uh, see you later, I guess," he said.

She gave him a look. "This is my classroom too, dork. Why do you think I followed you this far?" she pushed into the room and approached the black board, plucking a piece of chalk in her fingers. All eyes were drawn to her as she charted her name in elegant cursive. Finished, she set the chalk down and spun on a heel to face the class.

"I'm Asuka. Asuka Langley Soryu – charmed, huh?"

Their class rep beamed at the prospect of a new addition, gliding up to meet her along with several others. Asuka smiled, laughing and chatting excitedly as she traded names and acquaintances.

Shinji moved away. Rei was where she usually sat, gaze drawn from the window and stuck to him.

"Morning, Rei."

"Shinji," she said, offering her small, ghost of a smile. It left just as quickly as she studied him. "You are annoyed."

He waved his hand, urging her to forget about it, and took the seat next to hers, which was only a row forward from Aida and Suzahara. The latter had his legs propped up on the desk and the former leaned flat over his.

"Hey, Ikari!" he said, ever excitable, a goofy smirk on his face.

"Hey," Shinji grunted. Suzahara scoffed, more interested in the event at the front of class.

"Everyone's been saying you two died, but I knew that couldn't be true. The Evas must've been heavily damaged for you to be gone so long. Then that battle a couple days ago – there's supposed to be a new Eva isn't there? Well, I mean, I already know there is. My dad's department has been slammed just getting ready. Who's the pilot, Ikari?"

He nodded to the front of the class. "She is." He figured if he didn't say so, Asuka would at some point. Despite the Information Disclosure packet he'd received on arrival, there wasn't a point in pretending. Asuka didn't care about that confidential stuff anyway. Besides, a lot of kids in their school had parents that worked for NERV. They'd hear about it one way or another.

Aida's eyes went back and forth between him and Asuka. "No way," he breathed, awe and something else creeping in his voice, "oh man… and she's a foreigner? Wow…"

Shinji made a furtive glance and shrugged. "She's okay."

"Hey, you guys walked in together. Do you know her or something? I guess that makes s–"

"Of course he does!" Asuka declared, sitting herself atop Shinji's desk, "me and this dork have been friends since we were kids." She reached out and ruffled his hair some before he shoved her arm away. Asuka smirked off his withering glare, bouncing off his desk and striding back to the front of class.

"Damn," Suzahara made something of a laugh. "Hard to believe you ever made friends, Ikari. She must be as messed up as you."

"Shut up," he mumbled.

"Oh, hit a nerve? Man, you're just full of surprises today."

Aida nudged him with an elbow and gave Shinji and apologetic look.

He put his back to the class, talking with Rei, asking her how she was feeling and explaining why he couldn't visit her the past couple days. All the while he couldn't keep from glancing over his shoulder as his friend drank in the attentions of those around her.

He'd forgotten how much he hated this.

* * *

There was something very… precise about her features. Every contour appeared measured, even molded in a way that had Asuka dismissing them as dull. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, silken hair a light blue and neatly combed down to her shoulders, lips a cross between tan and barely pink, while her breasts seemed – she wanted to say a full A cup at the most, but they were bigger. _Marginally_. Not even noticeably, hardly even a B.

If Asuka could describe her in a word, it would be porcelain. Like a doll. She'd been eyeing the girl since that morning, catching the small flecks of interaction she had with Shinji. He didn't speak much of anything to anyone else in the class, herself included. The other girl seemed attentive to him, listening, nodding, occasionally allowing herself the barest of smiles.

Here, at the end of the day, her and Shinji were out at the edge of the baseball field, sitting under a shaded bleacher while a boys team geared up for practice. Five minutes had gone by since Asuka had caught them in the corner of her eye and kept a careful watch. She was by the entrance to the shoe lockers, half invested in a conversation with a group of her new friends, though she couldn't remember their names. Really, she just wanted to go back to her apartment, and she wasn't going to stick around for that idiot.

She removed herself from conversation, stowing her ugly school shoes away and hastily slipping into her low-top canvases. The plink of bats started over the fields and she followed the fences around to the courtyard entrance, just by the bleachers. Halfway to them, she stopped.

One of the batters struck out and kicked up some dirt beneath his cleats. His teammates in the dugout gave him brotherly pats to the shoulder, assuring him he was still welcome on the team and wouldn't be ostracized forever over a practice game. He still slouched forward and hung his head as he watched the next one come up to bat.

Shinji just barely managed not to jump as Asuka plopped down next to him. " _Hallo Shinji! Wie geht's_?"

" _Uh– h-hallo, Asuka. Gut_?" He managed.

" _Wer ist dein freund, hm_?" She asked, nodding at the girl.

Shinji remembered himself then, falling into Japanese. "Oh, uh, this is Rei, she's a pilot too."

"Hello, Rei. You must be the pilot for the prototype, then? I'm Asuka, pilot of Unit-two – the actual combat model. Like I said earlier, me and Shinji have been friends since we were little, but I'm sure he's told you all about that."

Rei shook her head, just so. "He has not."

Asuka smiled an unnatural smile.

The second batter, striking out twice, nailed the ball on the third pitch. Far enough for it to be caught readily by a midfielder. The batter slowly tested the swing of the wood in his hand as the umpire called him out, perhaps considering whether or not to wallop _him_ instead. Bitterness crept into his expression.

"Lemme see your arm," Asuka said, making it less a request and more a demand as she reached out and grabbed Shinji's arm. He didn't resist, watching as she found and traced a thin white sliver that went from crease of elbow to wrist. "Wow, you still have this?" Asuka glanced at Rei for a reaction, but she gave none.

Shinji shrugged. "It was a pretty deep cut."

"Yeah. This was when I pushed you into the rose bush, right?" She asked, like she'd only just remembered. It was odd to think it had happened nearly ten years ago, and she felt a severe sense of otherness holding his arm. She remembered it very well. "I kind of forgot about that."

"Well, I didn't," he said, trying to tug away. She tightened her grip.

"When did you get this?" she touched the rough, maroon patches of skin stretching over his palm.

"Just an accident," he said, tugging again, and she let him have his arm back. _Liar_.

Something was writhing in the undercurrent of his posture, wound up like it was when she'd first come to the base days ago. He stowed his phone away and fished out an ancient black box. His old SDAT, ear buds wrapped around its frame. A shout came from the field and the third batter threw his bat against the fence. Shinji didn't move to put them in, but she got the feeling he wanted to leave. Even when they were kids, he was always listening to that thing. The girl Rei watched the game without much interest.

"How was your first day?" he asked, in a way that wasn't entirely curious. Probably because he wasn't.

"Tedious." Asuka got up first, grabbing her bag. She was tired of this. "You live over by Myojogatake, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's close to where the surface line is for my GeoFront suite. You and Zero can ride home with me up until there."

"Zero?"

"Yeah," she put on a look of practiced innocence. When he continued to stare, her brow knotted, and she splayed a hand out. "For her Eva unit?"

"Right," he said, mistrust lingering with it.

With that, she, Rei and Shinji walked off campus to the whispers of others and made their way to the nearest station, a mile walk north down highway 45.

Asuka walked ahead, Shinji just behind and Rei towing the rear. On a corner, the same she'd met Shinji at that morning, they passed a unagi place. The smell of steaming, seared eel greeted her and made her mouth water, though she'd never tasted it before. It was warm and humid, as though being wrapped in flannel blankets fresh out of the dryer, the layers pealing off into something less sweltering as they descended into the crowded suburbs. Jellyfish flags hung from the light posts and wiggled in the breeze.

"Well, it looks like I'm pretty popular," Asuka cut the stagnant air, glancing behind. Shinji was looking across the street.

"Oh, yeah?" That tone of disinterest sprouted again, revealing the undercurrent from before.

"It's understandable," she went on with a contented sigh, "I'm overflowing with talent and potential, after all."

He shook his head, edging a cynical smile. "I don't get it."

"Poor Shinji, always so slow to adapt." She gave a mock pout and jumped up onto a nearby ledge, following it down the sidewalk.

He shrugged, sticking a hand in his pocket. "I guess so."

"Ooh, what's wrong?" she asked, unable to resist a toothy grin, "are you jealous?"

That lifted his lip in a half-snarl. "Of what?"

"My _obvious_ superiority."

"Superiority complex, maybe. _Not_ jealous."

Asuka stiffened at that, allowing her smirk to fade. The sidewalk dipped, leaving her standing on high at the corner to look down on him. "You never could admit when you got beat – if you didn't give up to begin with, that is. Just sulk and pout until someone, _usually me_ , felt sorry enough for you."

"Shut up," he said, trying to glare up at her, but the sun was too bright. She could tell that'd hurt him, just like she wanted, a much smaller voice telling her to stop.

But she couldn't. Not after today. "Must've been nice when I left, then you could forget all about me and feel superior by yourself."

"I was pissed off at you, okay!?" He shouted. She jumped, but just as soon fixed him with a glare and crossed her arms. His fury melted and he took a step back, facing away from her and letting out a puff of hot air. Rei, standing several paces behind, had tensed. Those red eyes came to stare at Asuka, who's chest prickled as though pierced.

" _What_?" She snapped.

Zero said nothing and, after a painful pause, moved to stand beside Shinji and wait for the crosswalk to change.

Asuka climbed down from the ledge, landing hard on her heels and stumbling a little. She used it as an excuse to shoulder Shinji in an arm. He shot her a look but she stared ahead, catching it in her periphery.

Traffic plowed through humid air, brakes squealing, and then the crosswalk beckoned them to move. Smells of gasoline and burning asphalt soured the air. In a moment she hated the metropolis and everything with it, aching for the old city of Heidelberg. Or perhaps something far less tangible and attainable.

It was like the world had finally opened up to her there. As though she'd been wrapped in this stagnant shadow, unable to spread her wings. All at once she was free from her mansion and her step mother and her father and that place with so many horrible memories. At the University she was master of her future and everyone knew her name, knew how great she was going to be, envied her bright radiance. Finally, she would be treated as an adult instead of some naive child, a feeling sweet and long coveted.

Often that wasn't how it turned out.

Often, she found herself trapped at a crossroads with no clear direction. Each path seemingly another misstep, foggy and unclear. It was then, when Heidelberg seemed the most remote place on the planet, that she reached out to the last connection she had with her home and the garden. It was what made her realize that at some point Shinji had given up maintaining contact and she'd sent that stupid letter in a moment of weakness. Not that it had mattered, he'd never read it. Maybe it was better that he left it unopened. He'd decided she wasn't worth the effort anymore. Her gaze settled on Rei.  
They boarded a rail car and grabbed seats. She left two between them.

"I really can't stand you," she said, more to the window across from them than to him.

Shinji stared between his feet. "I know."

* * *

Shinji watched a pair of girls down on the other end of the train, one on the phone and the other skimming through a manga. Both taking brief breaks to talk at the other. They were from a school on the other side of town. The skirts were different, red and plaid like back home. Beneath them the rails clacked, shadows dancing through the cars from the overhead cable lines.

"Soryu... she is your friend?"

Shinji flinched and faced Rei, who'd taken up residence beside him. She watched him, intent, but patient. Asuka had gotten off at the last stop, sparing neither of them a look or a word.

"Yeah. I don't know." He said, glancing back at the girls. He hunched forward, elbows on his knees and fingers intertwined.

Rei's gaze strayed from him for a moment, to the Tokyo-3 towers lording over the city, taller even than the mountains – or so it seemed. He'd been on those mountains, visiting derelict Buddhist temples and once a church, which was only a long-abandoned set of ruins sinking into murky waters.

"We used to be really good friends," he said, staring through the girls, both there and a thousand miles away at once. "Well… she was my best friend. We grew up together, and all that. Then we stopped being friends."

Rei hummed, and he could sense her eyeing him again. It was familiar, the way she did it, as though trying to find some missing piece of him. He couldn't say what it reminded him of, but it was the same thing he saw when she cleaned or ate or sat at her desk to do homework. It was Rei.

"Yet she insists that you are," she said.

He shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, she came to see me in the hospital after the last battle. All we really did was fight, but…"

The junior high schooler on her phone noticed his stare, smile giving way to a guarded disdain. She tapped her friend's shoulder and pointed at him. They each shifted and tugged at their skirts, which had hiked up some when they'd sat.

Cheeks heated, he watched the cable lines pass by instead.

"And now she says she can't stand me," he said, and maybe that was fair of her say.

"She is abrasive to you."

Shinji's smirk was sardonic. "That's just how Asuka is."

"It is..." Rei paused, hand gliding up along the side of her head and through her hair, pining it by an ear. "Disagreeable."

"Ever since I can remember she's been trying to prove how much better she is than me."

She let her hair fall, hands returning to her lap. "And is she?"

Her questions, as always, seemed less for her own curiosity.

"It doesn't matter," he said, the words unpalatable. Metal screamed as they eased into port, an automated message playing in a woman's voice. They would be taking separate ways home. There was one more stop he had to make.

"Will you be alright?" She asked, broaching a different subject altogether.

"Yeah. I'll be fine," he lied, shouldering his bag and leaving for a GeoFront NERV line. "See ya'."

Rei stayed quiet, as she sometimes did, and once on the platform he turned. Others passed by him and soon the doors closed, pulling her out of reach.

* * *

Doctor Okinoshima's office was immaculate, except for the lone lotus flower sitting in a glass bowl of cool water on the window sill. A red lotus, its petals closed despite the time of day. It was on the opposite end from him, where two more windows stretched the right side of the room. Beyond that were the flawless walls of the inverted pyramid sinking alongside headquarters, the light beaming down from the surface turning their crystal sheen a blinding white.

"How are you feeling?" Okino asked, as flat and smooth as the table between them.

Shinji looked back, though her eyes weren't actually on him, focused instead upon the computer screen with professional purpose. "Okay, I guess," he said, slouching in the black leather rolling chair that was two sizes too big. It and the lotus were the only discernible pieces of color.

Without looking, Okino marked something on a pad under her right hand. "Have you been eating well?"

"Not really."

Another mark, other hand sliding a bit of shoulder length hair back behind her ear. "And why is that?" she asked, all without sounding remotely curious.

Shinji gave that some thought, watching the lotus drift ever so subtly in its tiny pond, particles playing over its rosy buds. "I don't know… sometimes I just don't want to eat, even if I feel hungry." And it had never happened to him before either. Not even when he was a child and fresh off being sent away from his father. Even though it felt like that, where he was closed in on all sides by the plain, ordinary pressure of his walls, as ordered and lifeless as the office he sat in.

"Have you recently experienced anything traumatic?"

Shinji thought that was an odd question. He'd spent isolated months trying to synchronize with Unit-00 before his Eva had been finished. Had sortied four times now against an enemy he still didn't know anything about, and had been subject to the lasting tremors of sympathetic pain for days after. But those weren't traumatic things, were they? He was just doing what he was supposed to do. He was strong – like a soldier – and soldiers didn't feel like those things were wrong. Did they?

Unsure of how to answer, he fidgeted. "Um, like what?"

Okino spoke quickly, but without annoyance. "A car accident, witnessing a violent act, intense physical harm to your person."

"Oh… then yes."

Another mark. Something unseen scribbled. "And have you been experiencing any nightmares?"

Black, consuming ones. Worse than the dreams he used to have of being alone in a vast, wide ocean with nothing but darkness below him. In these new dreams he often walked in tall fields of wet grass that brushed his knees. Fog crept over the land, concealing it from view, a pale light sitting in the mists as though morning was mere minutes from breaking. But morning never came. He had a sword in his hand, but no armor, and no shield. They were gone, or destroyed, or stolen. He didn't know. From the encircling mists wandered these things that slithered like snakes, but their scales shook and spread outward like thorns to cut him as they crawled over his feet and wrapped around his ankles. They were big and fat and vicious, and he swung his sword, slicing them open and in two and through the head.

It didn't matter how many he killed. More always appeared, and always twice as many as he slew. In the distance he could see eyes. Hollow, round eyes without irises staring at him from a stark shadow with pointed ears. As he killed the slithering creatures, the thing's jagged, smiling maw opened – breathing more of the thick fog that clouded the world around him while a waterfall of snakes poured from between its teeth. The dream ended inevitably when there were so many they wrapped every inch of him, carving into his flesh and devouring him piece by piece.

"Yes," Shinji said.

The doctor tore a square of paper from her pad and handed it to him. "Here are two prescriptions – one for the nightmares, and a refill of your antidepressants."

Shinji took it, barely, his attention captured by the lotus again. "Miss Okinoshima. I think your flower is dying." There didn't seem to be any other reason for it to still be closed.

She paid his comment no mind, turning fully to her computer. "I will see you in two weeks."

He stepped out into the gray halls of headquarters, Okino's door whispering shut. An apparition of his imagination, if not for the silver plaque preceding her office. Shinji stared at it for a pause that stretched into hollow, aching minutes.

Okino was one of two psychologists staffed at headquarters, whom he was mandated to see twice a week. She mostly asked him general questions and prescribed a few pills, which he never took. Once he found out no one was actually going to make him go, most weeks he simply didn't show up. Misato annoyed him a few times about it, even made a handful of empty threats about taking away his phone, but then gave up, deciding it was too much effort. That and she'd never been comfortable pushing him – unless it involved the Eva, then she was willing to shove.

He resented her a little for it now. As always, he could never hate her indefinitely. He felt too guilty over holding a grudge against her to maintain one. Especially since he knew why she pushed herself to exhaustion. Why she hated the Angels so much. It was his responsibility to fight, and to win, if for no one else than for her.

The sky was bleeding when he made it topside, spilling hues of orange and pink over every surface and painting black shadows where those couldn't reach. Cicadas wailed in the fading heat. Shops and business fronts were closing, bars and night-life restaurants just starting to open. He was on the edge of town and its narrow roads, people stretching out of windows to hang clothes or beat rugs. From a balcony in his apartment complex two Filipino men smoked, one of them hollering to someone inside.

On the eleventh floor he keyed in the door code and it parted. "I'm home," he said. The apartment was dark. Several bags of trash lined the hallway waiting to be taken out. Shinji took off his shoes and made it into the kitchen, lit only by the glare of the setting sun through the balcony doors. Letting his book bag fall on a nearby chair, he pealed open a can of sardines and emptied it into Pen Pen's bowl. He tapped on the critter's fridge, signaling food, but he was probably asleep. The sour stink of raw fish poured over the apartment.

A beer can tumbled under foot as he sat, the tabletop a pile of newspapers, coasters, scissors, nail files, books, receipts, lottery scratch offs, a rice cooker and yet more cans of beer. There was a time when it had been a clean, welcoming place, and he had worked hard to keep it that way. At first they split up the chores evenly, but then the Angels came. He could clean up just fine, for a little while. Surfaces slowly became consumed with miscellaneous junk. Laundry went unfinished and sprawled throughout Misato's room, rarely folded and put away. Its influence spreading to the rest of the apartment, encroaching like the shadows outside.

A sinking urge in the pit of his chest wanted him to clean it, to throw away all the refuse and junk. But day by day the task seemed that much more insurmountable, like wading through a river of mud. His room was the only haven left, and even that was escaping him. The dust had probably made a new layer since he was away in the hospital.

So he sat there in the stillness, occasionally disturbed by the hum of electronics. The daylight screams of the cicadas had calmed to droning chittering and chirps that clawed their way between the seams of the apartment. Through the walls he could hear someone knocking, maybe for the neighbor.

 _Tap tap tap_.

An ocean of blue trespassed on the horizon, sweeping to consume the setting sun as it left, its radiance casting skyscraping pillars in stark black. Shinji thought to turn on a light or two as the dark settled over him, shrouding the mess of his apartment to an indistinct blur. He couldn't hear himself think.

 _Tap tap tap_.

His bones were heavy, and his body didn't seem to be all there, like he were merely floating in it. Watching from inside. Shinji brought his knees up to his chest and clasped his hands around his ears.

Still someone knocked.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I know these last two chapters have been rather slow and bloated as we explore the protagonists' time apart, but it seems for what I want to accomplish in this Arc, I may not be able to get away with shorter chapter formats like in Act I, where the storytelling had to be more condensed to cover such a long period of time. Well, that and I've always felt a chapter always ends up as long or short as it needs to be. Or maybe I just need to become a more ruthless editor, haha.

Anyway, thanks for reading!


	13. Act II - Chapter 3: War and Peace

**Chapter 3: War and Peace**

* * *

Shinji used to imagine Angels to be beautiful, winged beings dressed in white cloaks and glowing with a warm aura of light. That's how Preister Luitpold had made them sound.

When the Third Angel arrived, the battle lasted for three days.

On the first day, the JSSDF scorched what was left of the Odawara countryside when they detonated an N2 mine to stop it. On the eve of the second day, just before sunrise, he and Rei were finally given clearance to launch. They'd been on battle-ready standby for the past twelve hours and engaged it at range from the mountains. He, with the long barreled bolt-action AW MK II, and Rei with the Type 20 Positron.

The enemy was undefined, like peering through a foggy window. An ache throbbed under his forehead, his eyes trying in vain to focus a force that refused to be given form. Salvos of guided missiles and self-propelled artillery blossomed over its dark shape, while they watched from the ridgeline of Mount Ashigara.

As soon as it entered his range, Shinji drew a bead, or he tried to – the Angel was still an indistinct blur warring for definition. The targeter locked on to what his eyes couldn't perceive, compensating for muzzle drop and gravitational pull. He sent a heavy bolt plowing into the Angel, the round splashing apart over an invisible umbrella like a drop of water slapping a rock. Shinji primed another bolt in the chamber as Rei's positron whined, spitting streaks of gamma ray photons at the invader.

The beams dissipated and lost density as they entered the Angel's glaring shadow.

" _A.T. Field neutralization nil. Advance."_

As they sank into the valley, their Exclusion Zones shrank. Air pulsed, compacting and crushing the weapons in their grasp. Arcs of light speared towards them in sporadic patterns of attack – most missing by mere inches, others making glancing blows as the Angel continued to press its A.T. Field. They were ordered to retreat until the MAGI could conduct further analysis.

On the third day, Sachiel resumed its attack. For the Evas, fortified plating was replaced and systems were restored. Shinji wouldn't fail again. They intercepted it at the listening post by old Kino Cemetery.

His father. " _Unit-one, engage the target before it breaches the defense line. Unit-zero will support your attack."_

"Understood."

Their A.T. Fields unfolded. He felt them make contact, could sense the pressure of the immense being in front of him pushing into his space, probing for weaknesses, feeling for invasion.

His Exclusion Zone dwindled.

When Sachiel released its particle beams, they were more refined – more accurate than the MAGI had predicted. Light lanced into Unit-01's segmented abdomen. Armor split, bio-layers burst, and the Eva staggered. Braced against the ripping pain, Shinji listened to the rapid _tick-tick-tick_ of the stabilizer signal as he tried to bring Unit-01 off its side. Proximity alert – he hadn't even seen the thing move, and it had covered miles of distance in seconds. Hollow, white eyes stared down at him. Pallet rifle still in Unit-01's right hand, he shifted and pulled the trigger. The buzz of the rifle was cut short as the Angel collapsed its frame.

A blur of orange from the side. _Rei_.

Unit-00 was grabbed at the head in a flash of movement. Light flared in the Angel's palm, just as she wriggled to the side. The beam gouged its brain casing instead of blasting right through it. The force of the blow still tossed the Eva's head back, and she came crashing down like a cut tree.

"Rei!" Unit-01's prog-hatch opened.

The Angel's hand crushed the pauldron, snaring it in its fingers and ripping the metalwork off as though it were made of paper. The prog-knife went flying. With its other hand the Angel pressed Unit-01 flat on its back, holding him there as he struggled. A glimpse into senses that weren't his own, sensations and diluted impressions brushing his mind. The being was testing its strength, measuring itself against him, at least that's how it felt as it lifted its right hand – the same hand that had gouged Unit-00's head open, and wrapped Long fingers around the face-plate. Glass cracked and armor creaked.

Unit-00's shoulder crashed into the Angel. The prog-knife howled in her grasp, screaming as it punctured to the hilt in the shadow's chest. Rei stabbed it again, and again, and again – until something that must've been its engine revealed itself as a red orb. The Angel cast spiteful streaks of particles as it collapsed under the onslaught. Bits of Unit-00 melted away. The knife split into the core, and there was a rending light.

Black earth stretched beneath them, cracked and steaming. They powered down their Units and awaited retrieval.

His mind replayed the battle, stuck in a loop. Even after they'd been recovered, into the next day at school and well into the long weekend nights.  
He should've been better than this.

A tremor shook the plug, bringing him back to the city blocks of Tokyo-3, where he fought the Sixth Angel again. Asuka was hollering at him, other voices cutting over the channel in a garbled mess. The gem-like plates of the Angel split apart, coalescing into its hawkish shape. Its shards jittered and the thing lunged for him.

" _Cancel the simulation_."

The Angel's image froze mere moments before it would have collided with him, his Unit's arm still half-raised to draw the prog-knife too late. Slowly, the virtual world trickled out of existence, until it was just a grid of white wall inhabited only by Asuka's simulation plug across the way.

* * *

"I don't know why I bother with the mission objectives when you just ignore them," Misato said from where she leaned against a blank screen, arms crossed.

Shinji thought of several nasty retorts but kept them as thoughts only. They were in one of the ready rooms, which was built like a tiny theater – meant for maybe thirty people. He'd taken one of the seats nearest the door and farthest away from her.

When the quiet hum of the underground base persisted, her gaze fell to the side. She took a deep breath and sighed through her nose. "Shinji… they're talking about keeping you on standby the next time an Angel hits. Maybe even…"

 _Suspension_. That ugly word slithered over his mind, muddying in a black river that threatened to drown him. When he realized he'd locked on to Misato, he found the floor instead, hoping the churning dread he felt hadn't come through.

It must have, because her shoulders dropped, and she pushed off the wall. "I doubt it'll happen. The Marduk Institute hasn't even located any of the other children yet… but Units three and four will be finished in just a couple months. Shinji it's–"

"My sync-rate is the higher than anyone's," he bit out.

Her demeanor turned icy. "It isn't about your sync-rate, and as of your last test – no, it isn't."

"So what if I made a few mistakes."

"You don't follow orders, Shinji!" Her voice filled the room and rang in his ears. He fought a frown and considered storming out, breath caught in his chest. Recycled air poured through the vents and the still wet plugsuit left him tensing against shivers. From the corner of his eye he saw her shift, ascending to the third tier where he sat.

"How can I let you onto the field if I can't trust you to do what I say?" she asked, searching him. Then, in a much quieter way, "don't you care what happens to you?"

There was another question beneath it, but he didn't want to consider the answer. "If I kill Angels, who cares?"

Misato's hand cinched his face, drawing it up so that he had no choice but to peer right into her burning eyes. "What did you just say?" she asked, and everything in her voice – the quiet, heart-rending breath that one let out just before their foot snagged a mine – told him what he had just done.

But there was no taking it back. So he said nothing.

"Fine." There was a tremble under her voice. "You want to be a soldier? You can start by _acting_ like one," she said, releasing him. "You aren't getting back in the simulators until you can take this seriously. _Dismissed_."

There was a note of awful finality in her tone and his dislike for her deepened a little more, though not enough to choke down his guilt. She was his trainer, his commanding officer, his roommate, and sometimes a friend, but she was still… something undefined and nameless. Something he couldn't wholly trust, and now…

Shinji left the briefing room, heat like someone had lit a blow-torch over his sternum making him shake. He wandered into the locker rooms, vacant and echoing with stale, humid air. He stayed in the shower until the buzzer rang and the auto-shut off kicked in, dropping half the lights in the room. In the semi-darkness he changed into shorts and a sleeveless T, feeling neither like his school uniform or the NERV one. The empty plugsuit he left on the floor.

He had little memory of where he went after that, faces and hallways moving in an indistinct blur. Just outside the surface-level access gate for Terminal Dogma, he passed through one of the in-house lounges: a collection of padded seats, fake plants, and vending machines. Asuka sat under the TV, which paraded recent news to no one in particular. She had her still damp hair tied back in a ponytail, A-10 clips snug where her pigtails normally sat and invoking, as always, the image of a cat. She was curled up on one of the lounge chairs, scrolling through her phone with captured disinterest. He fought the impulse to ask her what she was doing there.

It had been a week since he yelled at her and instead of feeling less guilty, like he wanted, Shinji only felt more so. He was a small boy again, contemplating in an aching stupor what he had done to upset his friend this time. Except, for this instance, he knew all too well. It didn't make him any less angry. It was ridiculous for her to be upset over it.

Something alerted her to his presence and he was taken in and dismissed all at once, attention put back to her phone with more intent. That plowed a spike under his ribs and he took a half-step in the other direction. A groaning silence took hold of his mind and his step paused.

Before he knew it he was slipping a few hundred yen into the nearest machine for a bottle of green tea. Change clattered into the receptacle. He settled on a couch across from Asuka and a coffee table, snapping the cap off. Ceiling fans creaked over their heads, joining the murmuring chorus of news reports and pop music. Thumbing the ridges of the bottle, he decided on a few sips. It was far too bitter.

"Isn't your stuff all moved in by now?" he regarded Asuka, who didn't look up from her phone.

"Yeah, so what?"

He shrugged, eyeing the tantalizing plethora of drinks. Any of which he could have bought instead of this. "I usually go home after tests. I don't really like being here."

Asuka sank further into her chair. "Then go already."

He sighed through his nose and took several gulps of tea, sloshing it around some and pretending to be preoccupied by the news until he felt he had stayed long enough to not look like a fool for sitting down in the first place. He glanced once more at her, up and down, looking away when she faced him, her glare making the decision for him.

"Where's Zero?" she asked before he could take more than a step.

"I don't know."

Asuka hummed at that. "Thought you guys were attached at the hip."

He shrugged, waiting for her to say something more. Space around them sighed and it felt as though he were facing her through glass, foggy and unnatural like the labs at Gehirn. He started down the hall again.

"Where are you going?"

He faltered and swung 'round. "Gym, I guess. Why?"

"There's a gym here?"

"Uh... yeah."

The TV above her persisted, showcasing a series of oil spills off the coast of the Manazuru ruins. Asuka contemplated a vending machine across the way, chewing on her lower lip. Then he was regarded like a questionable piece of meat.

"What?"

" _Nothing_ ," she spat, falling back behind her phone.

"Fine."

Shinji moved on to the on-base gymnasium, tossing out his tea along the way. It was vacant when he arrived, the sounds of those who had just left still echoing in the corners. He went to the benches by the lockers, sitting saddle-horse. Smooth, chalk-splotched mats were laid out nearby in checkerboard patterns of red and blue. Beyond those was a forest of treadmills, dip-bars and smith machines. Mirrors spanned the walls, showcasing their lack of use. Low ceilings ensured every inch of the place was well lit, bathing it in a pale cleanliness.

Shinji fished in a pocket and plugged in the earbuds of his SDAT.

* * *

His morning sojourn to school began with apprehension, nagging at him during breakfast – even when he found Rei on the trains, and following him all the way to the street corner. Once at school, he and Asuka would acknowledge one another with a cursory glance and go right on through the day without much else.

Shinji spent it talking with Rei, the two of them listening to Kensuke and Toji go on a tirade about arcade games when there was nothing that needed to be said. Her Unit would be on standby for some time still. Unit-01 always had repair priority.

Breakfast at the kitchen table with Misato persisted, each ignorant of the other's presence. Most evenings, when they were in for sync tests, he spied Asuka down the gangway in her red plug suit for a moment as they boarded testing plugs, and then for another as she took up residence in the lounge on that deck afterwards. He bought a green tea, expecting it to taste better every time, and took up a seat nearby while the atmosphere tightened to a knot around his throat. By then he would leave, sit in an empty gym and listen to his SDAT the whole way through before going home.

It had been seven days since they'd spoken and once again she was sitting in the lounge. Shinji skipped the vending machine and cast his shadow over Asuka, who had sunk further and further into the chair as the days went by. Curled into it now like a cradle as opposed to a proper chair.

"Sorry," he said, trying to sound sincere.

Her eyes flashed. "What for?"

"You know. When I yelled at you."

Her posture relaxed some, but she brought the phone closer to her face, as if trying to fall into it. "Oh, that? I totally forgot."

"No, you didn't. You held a grudge against me for an entire year once. You didn't forget."

Asuka shot to her feet, her body heat a barrier. "Fine, so I didn't, now go away," she said, plopping back down.

His mouth quirked in a flat, unconvinced way, but he didn't feel like arguing. He didn't feel like much of anything. A gut tugging sensation nudged him to stay, maybe take the seat close by or grab something from the machines.

Instead, he ended up down in the gym, which greeted him with its numbing cadence. He found his spot on the bench nearest the lockers, submitting to the music of his SDAT after a breath or two of hesitation. The twenty-third track had barely started playing when one of the buds was pulled out. Equal parts startled and annoyed, he turned to stand. Asuka's fist came forward in a push more than a punch. Shinji fore-blocked on reflex. He wasn't prepared for her other hand coming up to shove his shoulder. He staggered, his footing off to begin with, and tumbled ass over elbow on the other side of the bench.

When he scrambled up, he saw Asuka's backside as she swayed over to the mats with her hands clasped behind her back, as innocent as could be. She turned to pin him with those blue eyes.

 _Tag, you're it._

Shinji shot to his feet, aches forgotten.

They found sparring equipment, mouth guards and some old rubber blades in the storage bins along the wall. It was a brief task to don their padded helmets, and he paused as she pulled her hair through an opening in the back, where it billowed out like the plume of an ancient helm.

They stood several feet apart on the mats. He on red and she on blue.

"First touch loses," she said, and he nodded.

He opened with slashes and jabs, embarrassed when he missed all his marks. She timed the right moment to dip inside his guard and drive the rubber hard into his ribs. Next match, smacking across his thigh. Under his arm during the next. By the fourth round Shinji was breathing heavy, and wanted to rip his helmet off and lock himself in his room for a year. She smiled.

 _Never_ had he wanted to take something away so badly.

The fifth match he pitched all his weight forward and ran a shoulder into her stomach. It didn't bother him that he'd floored her. At least, it shouldn't have bothered him. Asuka's smile broke as he let her up, the more serious and infinitely more dangerous girl from their training days coming through. He could _still_ beat her. She couldn't win at everything.

On the sixth bout, she hunted for the sensitive nerves at his wrists and elbows, striking him on the upper forearm hard with a fist. His knife-hand opened on reflex, and just as hers was coming in – he balled his left hand and lashed out, managing to crack his knuckles into hers. Asuka shrieked and staggered back, holding her hand at the wrist.

"What the _hell_?!"

An iron ball dropped through his gut. Their labored gasps filled every corner. Shinji shook his head, frustration overwhelming him like a pot of boiling water. "Let's just stop."

He stooped to pick up his knife, only to have Asuka's foot smack atop his palm, digging it between her heel and the rubber hilt.

"Asuka!" When all she did was press harder, he hugged her leg with his free arm and lurched forward, pushing her off balance. Her back smacked the mats and she rolled half in a daze as she absorbed the ache. Shinji made to get up – when her other leg started aiming kicks at him, his protests lost between her strained grunts. He let go of his grip on her ankle and shoved the appendage away, throwing himself at her. He grabbed for her arms, earning a manacle grip around her wrists, but she rolled onto her back – tucking her legs in and shoving her feet into his stomach. He let his breath free on reflex, mitigating some of the impact. She pushed until he was arched over her, still latched to her wrists. Their shouts and struggles echoed through the gym.

Shinji maneuvered himself off balance, sliding between her legs and losing grip. She caught one of his arms readily and he had a moment to be terrified as she grabbed hold with both hands, legs now laid over his chest in an arm lock. With flailing, ugly difficulty, he slid himself vertical instead of horizontal, negating the lock by instead making his face mercy to her feet again.

He couldn't say how long they wrestled. Time didn't seem to move out on the mats, their bodies worked into overdrive and pouring off skin-melting waves of heat. There was biting, scratching, hair-pulling, name-calling, and their protective gear ripped off bit by bit under the abuse. Soon both of them were red and burning from skin twisting against skin. From another perspective, it must have looked no different than a pair of squirrels scraping it out.

It seemed to take a lifetime, but their energy began to evaporate, each movement drunk with exhaustion – and every inch of him felt like it were made of stiff rock instead of muscle. Asuka was atop his back now, arms wrapped around his neck from behind. Elbows shaking, he pushed off the ground, making a strangled shout from the wobbling effort. Her hair fell into his face and he tried to shake her off by stumbling forward on hands and knees.

She began to shake. It was a soft sound at first. When her breath caught up, she started laughing.

Maybe it was because he was tired, with so little oxygen and hydration able to reach his addled brain and support his spent limbs. Or maybe it was because of how utterly ridiculous they must have looked.

But he started laughing too.

Shinji pitched forward, face slapping the cool mats as he fell victim to an uncontrollable fit of gasping laughter, joined by Asuka's breathless giggles that sometimes turned into snorts – and only made him laugh harder. Neither seemed able to stop, and Shinji was starting to see fireflies from lack of air. After long minutes of writhing on the floor, they were at last staring up at the ceiling – feeding starved lungs in heaving pants. When their breathing eased into something normal, and the world stopped spinning, both had time to absorb all of their wounds and sores and headaches. It was no worse than their old play in the garden.

"Call it a draw?" She breathed. It was the closest thing to a compromise Asuka had ever offered him.

He shook his head.

"Fine." Asuka let her head fall towards him. "Wanna go again?"

If he could feel the muscles in his face, they might have twitched with a smile. "No, I have to get home."

Her hand flailed out and she pushed on his cheek. "Come ooon."

"No, I gotta go." It took far too much effort to sit up.

"Whatever. I just thought you'd like the chance to win your pride back."

"Hah. Against you? That's a losing battle."

"Then stop losing – loser," she punctuated by shooting him a raspberry.

He grunted, finding his way to the benches on aching legs. "I have a lot of assignments to catch up on, anyway. Misato said she'd take me out to eat if I got my grades up."

"Oh, so it's for a date with Misato then?"

Shinji shook his head. He was too tired and just blurting things out now. "No. That's not why. I'm not even sure I want to." He picked up his SDAT from the floor and stared into it for a time, the music still playing. He'd always liked Mariya – how she made her sad songs sound so bright and full of color.

"Hm," Asuka sighed, still lounging on the floor. "What homework are you working on anyway? I'm still trying to figure out some of the Kanji. Why do the Japanese use such a complicated writing system?"

He shrugged, hearing the music with a new ear. "You're pretty smart. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

"Yeah – _thanks for nothing_."

It was the tone that pulled Shinji away from his SDAT, and Asuka was there on her hands and knees as though ready to pounce. She stared at him.

"What?" he asked, feeling like he should flick her nose, but also sensing there was something more serious at work. Her lips pursed and the muscles in his face tightened.

"You don't need help... right?"

"No, I don't," she said in a drawn-out way, as though having finished chewing on something rotten.

She left soon after.

* * *

" _Pattern Orange detected. All hands to battle stations, level one. All hands to battle stations, level one."_

Light flickered along the walls, mirroring the heightened sense of urgency the crew of the base moved at, leaving behind lunches, drinks, and games of mahjong to reach their posts. The stampeding personnel parted for Misato, some of the green horns stopping to make a hasty salute.

" _All non-essential personnel evacuate to your designated shelters, this is not a drill."_

She entered the bridge at the middle tier, the command tower rising above her – missing its commander. Fuyutsuki stood poised in the position instead. At the forward CIC, her three specialists ran through data on the holo-screens quicker than she could read it. Ritsuko monitored nearby.

"Analysis of the target?" Misato asked, eyeing the grid of the city super-imposed below the main screen.

"Blood Type registers as Orange according to the inherent wavelength," Aoba said, pursing his lips and shaking his head. "The MAGI can't seem to come to a consensus on a Blue reading, not without more data. Target tentatively designated as the Seventh Angel."

She nodded. "Current heading?"

"Location South-East. Zeroing in on coordinates now." Hyuga zoomed the holo-map. "It's established a beachhead at the new Yugawara coast line." On the main screen a bird's eye view from a recon drone showed them the flooded mainland, tops of crooked buildings poking the surface. Spilled atop it all was an ink-black blotch that writhed at the edges like oil in water.

"It's massive," she said, grinding her teeth. She was down an Evangelion and her other units had just finished repairs. Damn.

Ritsuko glanced at the readings. "So far it's reached a diameter of ten kilometers."

"The MAGI picked up whispers in the Manazuru ruins through our listening post in Shiroganeyama this morning. Rapid temperature spikes, abnormal atmospheric gradients, random jumps in PMW signatures."

Misato moved to Maya's shoulder as she was motioned over. "For the past few days it's consumed mass in a seven-mile radius and the rate of consumption is increasing hourly."

Misato fought not to sound exasperated. "How didn't we catch it sooner?"

Hyuga shook his head, at a loss. "Something in its growth cycle that flew under the MAGI's radar."

She offered him a grimace and he returned it. Maya threw up a new analysis. "The MAGI project that in six days, seventeen hours, eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds it will have consumed a third of the Kanto Region."

"There's already a prong forming in its growth pattern," Ritsuko said.

"Straight for us," she hummed. A wandering protrusion branched out from the mass, weaving into the valleys near Shiroyama. "Outfit the Evas for ground assault. Has the JSSDF been alerted?"

"Affirmative. Third and Tenth Divisions are mobilizing. Fighter squadrons from Komatsu and Hyakuri will be entering Tokyo-three airspace in twenty minutes." Aoba pressed a hand to his headphones, straining a moment to hear. "Just picked up a broadcast over the E-Band: emergency mobilization of the third, sixth and fifth Air Wings."

"For what?"

"Can't say for sure, but it sounds like they're prepping for a pretty big bombing raid on the Angel."

She thought the JSSDF was done nosing their way into NERV's operations. They should have known by now. Misato turned to the Command Tower. "Sir?"  
Fuyutsuki allotted the main screen a baleful glare. "Let them proceed. It won't make a difference."

"Understood. Configure the city for long-range interception. Prep the Evangelions for aerial insertion. Let's get out there before the Defense Force gets too trigger happy."

* * *

Another squadron of fighter jets, nothing but thin silvery streaks against deep blue, dropped what must have been another few thousand gallons of napalm over a shifting black mass. The fuel mix belched flame to join the wild, bloated fires that already coated the Angel's body, crawling forth bit by bit from the sea. Billowing clouds of white phosphorous mingled with the black smoke of the napalm, the former pouring over what was left of the coastline from the northern winds.

" _Target in sight,"_ the bomber pilot radioed, just as they passed over Mount Byobu. _"Coming up on the drop zone."_

Shinji flexed his fingers around the induction levers. "Roger."

Asuka's plug feed sprang up in his, though she was focused on the growing firestorm ahead. "Betcha' I'll land ground-side first," she said.

"Only 'cause they made your Eva fat with armor."

" _Pig_."

Misato's window cropped up over hers, whisking it to the side. "Lock it down you two, and listen up. The MAGI have managed a partial on our target. Ritsuko will brief you." In place of Misato a Sound Only display appeared. "I'll keep this short. Based on our wave pattern analysis the Angel exists in a necrotrophic state, much like a fungus. It invades organic material using a combination of mechanical pressure and enzymes and perpetuates growth by using the dead tissue. From satellite imagery and drones, we've been able to discern the Angel uses a kind of acid to break down anything inorganic."

"So it can eat through armor," Asuka said.

"Correct. Maintain a reasonable distance and probe its defenses."

Shinji stole a look to the right where Asuka's bomber trailed alongside his, just a hair behind. Already mounted to her arm was a positron rifle and to her hip a pair of 8-cell charge packs. They'd given him a pallet rifle and a tomahawk. It seemed he was expected to get in close.

Misato's face replaced the sound-only barrier. "Our batteries at Shiroyama and Makuyama can support you for immediate effect. All other support fire from base comes with a longer delay, so keep that in mind once you're on the ground."

"Got it," Asuka said. Shinji remained quiet, but Misato had already cut her visual feed. Clouds of phosphorous lurked below, lit with a blistering inferno. Through the patches he could see a twinkling black. He wished Rei was there.

" _Movement from the target."_

The bomber lurched, the Angel's fluid mass spattering the undercarriage keeping the Evangelion anchored. Shinji realized that the twinkling was light bouncing off its shifting body as another wave of gelatinous orbs rose from the storm and streaked towards them. They traveled too fast for the slow-moving bomber to evade, the transport jarring again as the left wing was peppered with impacts. An unseen blast rattled the frame.

" _Hull breach. Left side stabilizer fins are gone."_ the co-pilot said, voice tight with tension. Their trajectory started to shift. _"Engine failure!"_

Another salvo slapped the body of Asuka's bomber.

" _Drop now – launch, launch!"_

From the corner of his eye he saw Unit-02 slip from the railings and sink towards the ground. Shinji, linked with the onboard computer, triggered the release on the right induction lever.

 **Rack Line Jammed.**

"What?" He ticked the release again. The right wing of his craft lilted.

 **Rack Line Jammed.**

" _Shinji, eject from the bomber!"_

"I can't _–_ it's stuck!"

" _Shit – hang on back there!"_ The pilot did what he could to glide them down, but he couldn't have had much control of the thing, not with the left wing torn to pieces. It wasn't long before they entered a spiral – but even then, it took them too long to fall. Shinji had every nerve-wracking moment to witness the black Angel consume his viewport. From the external sound feed he could hear the noise of the remaining engines rising in pitch as they plummeted faster and faster.

There was the start of a scream from the cockpit, and then a blast – like the backfiring of a car. Metal crashed and Shinji pitched forward against his harness. Static buzzed over the viewport, he was weightless, up until the bomber finished its flip. The other wing burst off, an explosion rattling him to the bone. Another impact, he was thrown into the side of the command suite. Voices howled in the LCL.

He wasn't sure when the plane stopped moving, vibrations reverberating in his muscles. One of the right-side panels snow-screened, alerts water-falling on the left side of his HUD. A message still blinked at him in large red letters. **Rack Line Jammed.**

" _Shi-"_

" _Shinj... hear me?"_

He commanded the Evangelion to stand, the internal motors humming as his sync-rate tethered tighter. Invisible strands spiraled from the nerve clips and wove through his brain. Command's transmissions came in just a litter clearer.

" _Unit-two attached to mobile power unit. Umbilical secured."_

" _We've lost visual of Unit-one."_

Unit-01 met resistance as it stood, like someone were pushing on his shoulders. He pushed in kind. Part of the bomber crumpled, tearing away from the Eva's back where the railings kept superstructure and torched metal planted to his armor. A hand reached to his left pauldron, only to find the outer casing crushed.

"Prog-knife's out," he said, hoping someone could hear him. A damage report told him the comms tower was crippled too. His pallet rifle was gone, all he had was the Tomahawk. A timer tone sounded and the plug pitched red. Five minutes of power remaining. A cold shard sank into his heart. No back up power supply, stranded in the middle of a thing - an Angel. A fog of phosphorous consumed his vision, illuminated by rolling swells of fire. Unit-01 took a step forward, the armored boot sinking into a black mire. Shinji lifted the other foot, or attempted to, looking back to find it plunging into the body of the Angel.

The comms rippled with static. _"The Angel's made contact with Unit-one!"_

Black clumps swelled and gripped tight. Shinji launched the back-mounted boosters, tugging on the substance before the shallow fuel cells were gone and Unit-01 smacked into the muck, arms dipping in up to the elbow. Glittering flecks of energy spread outward from the contact points, a screeching wail piercing into the plug.

 _"Pattern Blue confirmed!"_

"I've spread my A.T. field, haven't I?" he said, focusing on the mechanism again. A gauge told him it was at maximum. Unit-01 tugged and jerked, its armor groaning from the strain. "W-what's happening? I can't move!"

 _"We need to get the pilot out of there, ej_ – _"_

" _No! Those fires are burning at five-thousand degrees. The plug won't be able to survive that if it doesn't land outside the firestorm."_

" _Can it even clear the Angel's mass?"_

" _Unlikely."_

"Hey! Can anyone hear me?! Misato!"

Unit-01's armor readings sprang up. An integrity warning? It was just the ablative layers, but...

" _Shinji, come... you there?"_

"Misato?" he said, a shiver in his voice.

" _How are his vitals looking?"_

" _Increased heart rate, otherwise reading green."_

" _Shinji... you can... to minimal gain mode. We're working on getting Asuka to you."_

In the distance he could hear the sharp whine and thump of the positron rolling in rapid succession.

" _I don't care if the... get Unit-zero ready, **now**._ "

" _All batteries, HEAT in effect, danger close."_

That was it then, they wanted him to wait. They wanted him to sit there and just...

Unit-01's plug chirped, reminding him again how little power he had left. Shinji triggered the phase-out. Spectrums of color blossomed over the panels, a low moan fading to white noise as the main control circuit powered down.

It wasn't long before he could hear the muffled pounding of 155mm shells hammering the Angel's mass. All else was muted, allowing the plug's soft undertones to come to the surface. They hummed and whirred, each a small part of the Eva's symphony. The thrum of the command suite clicked and chittered. Shinji bore into the plug-depth, dimly lit and punctuated with the point where the seams of metal met. Its rhythmic cadence poured over him, lording over all else.

He couldn't eject. Even if the napalm dispersed, a remnant of the bomber was still latched to Unit-01's back, covering the hatch. Knees to his chest, Shinji slipped his hands over his ears. "God, I hate this," he hissed, pushing his palms flat. The plug's droning lull became louder, enveloping his person, reverberating in his lungs.

Time bled out. Minutes took hours to pass. The digital clock built into his suit became a close friend. He kept it so near he could count each of the pixelated blocks. Somewhere, he found the wherewithal to sit up and bring the Unit out of minimal gain. He couldn't remember how long he'd actually been sitting there.

Deep blue clouds churned above, the horizon dimming with fire-light. The landscape was much as before, but the fires and smoke had cleared – replaced by a fog of debris from artillery. Comms attempted an auto-connect to command.

" _Unit-one's... back online."_

The connection was so thick with static he had to strain to understand, but it would do.

" _Shinji?"_

"Misato." He glanced at his timer. "Are you able to reach me?"

Sound only. _"No... any mass we burn off grows back quicker. The Commander's ordered an A-17 to be put into effect."_

"He's not even here."

A pause. " _He's still the Commander."_

"He's never _here_."

" _Shinji_ – _"_

He flicked the conversion switch, terminating the Plug-HUD and all signal transmission. "I don't want to hear it. I hate this thing. I hate this place. Why can't you do anything?" he snarled, shaking the induction levers. Another question rang in his thoughts. But that was far too painful to speak out loud, even if it was just to himself.

Little things plucked at the tiny sensors beneath his skin, tickling like a swarm of ants. They crawled and bit, nesting under his flesh to peel and tug at his nerves. He scratched at the plug-suit, digging to reach the skin beneath and make it stop. Black terrors from his nightmares came, swarming about him as he swung and cut and struggled.

Before he could stop himself, Shinji brought Unit-01 to optimal gain, the timer ticking away once more. He didn't see it. All he knew was that he needed to get out. He needed to fight. To do something – anything but be eaten alive.

Metal strained and he ground his teeth together to fight the pressure tightening his sympathetic bond. In the distance he could hear the reports of a positron rifle again. Had they ever stopped? The hydraulics groaned, strands of the black fluid stretching – tearing. Several snapped, Unit-01's right arm ripped free, trailing bits of mire that still clung to him. Where there had been armor, now there was a melting mesh of circuitry and pale tissue, fibers from artificial muscle exposed from being eaten away at. Shinji snatched the tomahawk from his thigh plating, chopping the high-frequency edge into the Angel. A howl answered him and he brought it over his head for another blow.

Shapes boiled from the surface, gelatinous orbs rising en-masse and streaking towards him. They spattered Unit-01, some of it splashing over the entry hatch. As it did the pieces of the Angel spilled and fell to reunite with the body, the bonded strands pulling his Eva lower.

" _Cellular damage increasing!"_

" _It's transitioned to a biotrophic attack. The Angel is trying to create a mutualistic bond with the Evangelion!"_

Unit-01 clawed at its face, tearing the body of Angel from the head casing. More of it lanced out from the mass to latch on to him, tethering him tighter the more he struggled. From the corner of his eye, the timer seemed to pick up speed with every lost second. In just thirty seconds he'd be out of power.

After his first battle, Shinji would wonder – in those still hours between awake and sleeping – what his moment of death would feel like. Would he scream? Would he cry? Would he be overcome with terror or regret? What would his final thoughts be? Staring that moment in the face, he found himself thinking of his mother. Shouldn't she have been there? Shouldn't she have been at his back, there to help him escape this impossible moment?

Someone.

Anyone.

" _Stop wasting time, you idiot!"_

But it was already too late.

* * *

Rei watched an illusionary force play upon the stage at the edge of her toes. Within its square frame, an Evangelion – Unit-01 – succumbed to the will of an Angel. Dark tendrils wrapped around it, ready to make them one. Far from the epi-center, the second Unit attempted to plow its way across the Angel, walking as though through a thick mud. Its positron rifle burrowed deep holes in the body.

A counter in the corner of the screen reached the zero marker.

There was a flare of light – and what appeared to be bright red eyes. Unit-01 struggled against the Angel, pulling at the bonds and ripping their lynching grip. It managed to stand despite the pull, its invader casting more of itself against the machine. Unit-01's eyes glowed, despite having run out of power minutes ago, and its jaw parted. The Evangelion threw its head back and let loose a shrill scream.

Israfel's body shifted, coalescing about the Eva in a swirling torrent of fluid, rising and rising in a cone around the Unit until it resembled a mountain. She became anxious, though she already knew what was about to happen. Another flare of light, a brief flash of veined wings, and bits of the Angel were scattered across the coastline. Unit-01 collapsed forward, catching itself on both hands. It crawled over the smoldering remnants of the Angel's attack in a way reminiscent of a spider.

Its hands dipped into what remained of Israfel, the black substance swirling over the Eva's crippled limbs – becoming the components to replace its flesh and armor. A scream answered it, exciting the Unit further. It crouched low, one hand dipping into the body of the Angel. Its chemistry changed, bent to the will of the berserk Evangelion. Its mass congealed, splitting with cracks and fissures. Blue seeped from the wounds. Unit-01's body began to bloat, bursting out of the armor. Swells of muscle and skin writhed.

"What is the current status of the Unit?" The Commander asked. He tracked the movements of the recording with an intensity she'd never witnessed, or perhaps never noticed. It reminded her of what Shinji looked like when he fought the other boys at school. Was it excitement? Unit-01 snared a handful of the clumping mass, blue blood splashing over its teeth and spilling down its chin as it bit into the ripe flesh.

"Confined to stasis and undergoing analysis," Doctor Akagi said, the display reflecting in her glasses. Unit-01 began ripping at pieces of the Angel.

Fuyutsuki watched. "And the Seventh Angel?"

"Deteriorating at a rapid rate, but we've managed to isolate a few samples."

"Stop the recording," Ikari said, and Unit-01 froze in the middle of gorging itself.

Fuyutsuki squinted. "Was Unit-one allowed to take an S-two engine into itself?"

"It couldn't have." Akagi's eyes shot up to meet his. "This Angel's S-two engine didn't manifest in a structure that would be easy to take advantage of. The fact that it tried is..." Something in her posture changed, a knot of worry removed as quickly as it had come. "Either way, our diagnostics of the Unit didn't turn up anything abnormal."

"Has Captain Katsuragi been debriefed?" Ikari asked, only present enough to dissect his surroundings for information. Rei herself had no need to be there, her presence on the periphery. An afterthought brought about by happenstance. She quirked her head at the display, as if that would give her a better perspective.

"Yes. The report will mention a decoding error in the neural uplink system. A pile-up of negative feedback."

"Very good. Expunge this data. Fuyutsuki, please take care of the rest."

He did not ask about Shinji before departing and she was not ordered to fall in step, feeling herself move as if to follow. The hiss of the door sealing shut left her with a gnawing pit in her stomach.

Akagi came to stand near, waiting. "It's time for your baseline test."

Rei nodded, but was between places. Between thoughts and emotions. He'd opened himself to it, and she pondered if knowing would have helped him. If he had ever needed that. When does a person need help to keep from disappearing? She saw how he watched the others while they were at school, or sitting on the train, or walking down crowded streets. There was something like longing in his eyes, a loneliness. He seemed caught in a stasis, somehow, and the more he occupied her space, the more attuned to it she became.

"The Committee isn't going to like this," the Sub-Commander said, boring into the image at his feet. Her gaze lingered there too, captured by the visage of Unit-01 poised to take another bite from the black heart in its hand. Like the hideous fruit of an unspeakably evil tree.

* * *

 _It was a broken home. Dense mold crept up the foundations, termites making deep burrows in the soft woods. But even they had abandoned it at some point, the place no longer a nourishment as water from rampant, unchecked storms seeped into the cracks and peeled the paint and rotted it to the core. It leaned to one side, perhaps one barreling wind away from toppling. Swells of rushing air whistled through the shattered windows, carrying the faint echoes of stifled sobs. Shinji looked over his shoulder, back into the garden. Her hazy figure remained where it was, and he sensed she wanted him to go inside._

 _White rocks crunched under his Kloster loafers. They scuffed the wood of the front porch, a paper screen door barring his path, the lining ripped free by a tantrum or mother nature, or perhaps both. He slid it open, allowing him to see a hallway leading to a modest common room. Cicadas buzzed, their pitch rising. A small silhouette, dark from the light of afternoon cast on it from the kitchen window, stood near the hall._

The ceiling of his room was a nice change from the cold, metallic radiance of the Limbic Quarantine Block.

That imagined moment stuck in his mind's eye. It wasn't like the nightmares, which had abated some, now lurking on his periphery. He recalled drowning – disappearing into the Angel - and then there was that home and the shadow he knew. Sleep wouldn't take him, despite the ache of his eyes. He'd had plenty of time to sleep in iso. For days, they'd told him. In debriefing, Deck Officer Mibu said he killed the Angel. He'd won, somehow.

That night, Shinji came home in the musty summer air. After a week the apartment was still a mess, dust creeping ever further over every surface. Particles of it floated in the stagnant artificial light. Misato's door was closed and he checked his phone several times. There were a few meals prepared for him in the fridge, an amalgam of steamed rice and curry noodles. He ate until he felt like throwing up and sat in the bathroom for a while, just in case he did. PenPen, stirring at the sounds of someone about, waddled in and slipped his head under one of Shinji's arms. He scratched the penguin and listened to him coo.

The moment between then and standing in front of her door blurred together. PenPen was down the hall slurping at fish, his bowl scratching the linoleum.

"Is Misato coming home tonight?" He asked. A pale sliding door stared back at him, a black scuff mark at its corner from when he and Misato had grappled over the remote once. Shinji's feet carried him to bed, where he lay fully dressed, waiting for burning eyes to close.

His phone on the nightstand buzzed, and he considered it like one might an overgrown weed on the sidewalk. When had it gone from 1 am to 7? Glancing at the screen, it was not a number he recognized. So he held the thing as it kept to its muffled ring, begging for attention.

After three more rings, he tapped to answer and touched it to one ear. "Hello?"

"Did you just wake up?"

Shinji jerked at the sudden volume. "Yeah – who is this?"

"What do you mean who is this? Who else would call you?"

Of course, it was Asuka. A wrinkle formed on his brow.

"How did you get my number?"

"I asked Misato for it."

"Oh. Okay. What do you want?"

A pause filled the line and Shinji found the strength somewhere to sit up. There was great effort in Asuka's tone. "Kanji. Teach me."

"I'm not going to school today."

"That has nothing to do with what I just said. And why? You're already a week behind because of that dumb quarantine. This is why your grades are terrible–"

He held the phone away from his ear for a minute until it sounded like she had finished. "Did Misato tell you about my grades too?"

"No. Without me to make you put in effort, they always take a nosedive-"

"It's not like I need to know that stuff for Eva."

"-And I've already graduated University, but if _I_ have to go, _you_ have to go. So are you coming or what?"

Shinji had stepped out of his room by this point, feeling the grunge of the past few days layer over him all at once. New smells filled his nostrils, no longer accustomed to the decay around him after so long away.

"Okay, I'll go."

They talked over one another with long pauses here and there as they prepared for the day. He told her which sections she would need to study to start memorizing the correct characters, while she idled him with the past week of gossip at school. He'd never paid much attention to that and resorted to grunted responses, and she let it all spill out in a rush – until it built into an overflowing frustration. She turned it on him, because he was the easiest outlet, and he let her. He was far too tired to feel much of it.

When they met at the corner stop on the way to school, Asuka greeted him by nagging at his state of dress, how ratty his shoes looked, and why he didn't at least comb his hair.

"Is this how you treat people fresh out of the hospital?" he asked as she wrestled to clasp the top button of his shirt.

Asuka offered him a withering look. "No, just you."

Cars squealed to a stop and the cross-walk chirped for them to move forward.

"Where's Zero?" Asuka asked, though didn't sound very curious.

"Don't call her that."

"You won't do anything if I do."

"I could stop talking to you."

"Then shut up already."

They parted at the shoe lockers and Shinji lamented the fact that he could have just stayed home after all. A few new bits of graffiti marred his locker, but there also seemed to have been an effort made at rubbing them away.

Shoho and Kirishima both acknowledged him with a greeting as he entered the classroom, if not a half-hearted one. It stopped him in place for a minute, before he stammered out a greeting in return. Rei was not present. More and more he was beginning to think he had imagined her up until now. She was that specter she had been when they first met, hovering at the Commander's side. Falling in step behind Ritsuko as they embarked into the depths of Dogma - wherever that led.

It was an uneasy thought. The idea of her not being so near.

Cicadas droned. The creeping exhaustion that had been pursuing him into the night finally caught up, and he slept through most of the lessons. All while Aida and Suzahara chucked bits of paper at him, seeing who could land a shot in his mouth.

The whack of a ruler on wood snapped him upright, and peering down at him from slit eyes and enormous bifocals was Nebukawa.

"Ever the enthusiastic academic, Mister Ikari," he said. The afternoon bells rang, saving him from further humiliation. The room began to disperse and someone stuffed a crumple of paper into his bag as they passed. Asuka. She was gone with the crowd and he filed out to the courtyards, streetside bustle echoing up to the school grounds.

Shinji caught sight of her by the western entrance, leaning against one of the walls. A smile splashed her face as she waved to a gaggle of passing girls, who returned the parting gesture with just as much enthusiasm. But only one party was faking it. She held her hand against her school bag.

As she began to walk, he read the note while trailing her at a non-invasive distance – which for Asuka measured about fifty feet.

 _I'm writing this staring at the back of your bloated head in class. You've been in quarantine for a week. A whole week. And I go out of my way to get your number from Misato, which was humiliating, not that you care. I call you and all you can say to me is 'what do you want?'_

 _Next time you see me don't talk to me._

Had she been upset about that the entire day?

A cross walk held her in place long enough for him to close the distance. Her right hand hung at her side, a bright red showing on her knuckles. Somewhere back at school there was a cinder-block wall marked with a smudge of blood. She _would_ do something like that. Asuka was just the kind of person to hurt herself if it meant keeping tears at bay. He reached out to inspect her hand, but she snatched it away.

"Have you cleaned that?"

She ignored him, face hidden by her hair.

"I have some gauze at home."

Asuka whirled about-face, clamping his nose between thumb and index finger, and twisting until he shoved her hand away. They fumed, perhaps on the edge of something more violent.

She started off again and he caught up to walk at her side.

The trip back to his apartment was sharp with silence, clouded by a sour ache in his nerves. Upon arriving before the flat's door, all at once came the daunting realization that having Asuka over was an awful idea. The place was disgusting, which wasn't so bad when it was just him and Misato. Having others witness to his complacency made it all the more denigrating. His fingers nudged one another at his sides.

"What are you waiting for?" Asuka was leaning against the wall alongside the door, crossed leg bouncing irately. Shinji punched in the access code and stepped inside. He flicked the lights on and greeted the place with a strangled, "I'm home."

Stepping over a fallen trash bag from the pile along the hallway, he found PenPen's fridge occupied as usual. The bird's dwelling was nicer than most of the apartment. Misato took better care of the penguin than herself. His tea mug from that morning was sitting by the sink, half-empty. Dirty dishes piled the basins and the dishwasher was already full to bursting.

Asuka shouldered past him and surveyed the living room. Revulsion crept ever further into her expression.

"Want anything to drink?" he asked.

She considered where he stood in the kitchen, features quieting some as she shook her head and moved on to the sliding glass doors. "This place is a pig sty."

"Yeah," he said, toying with something on the kitchen table to hide his inward flinch. Much like when he lived in Germany, her brooding scrutiny made him feel small, or unworthy.

Space was cleared off on the table by shoving some of the refuse to another corner, bits of it clattering to the floor. When she came back to the kitchen, he opened the first aid kit on the table and motioned for her to sit. She did so and allowed him to take her scuffed hand by the wrist. A yelp was bit down on her lower lip as he touched alcohol to it. She yanked her hand, and he yanked back, jabbing the cotton over the cuts. Her eyes pinched and her toes curled.

When it was cleaned, he wrapped her hand with some gauze and administered bagged ice as was promised. Asuka was barely present for the affair, taking in every speck of detail. Shinji pinched her hand when he was done, which produced an annoyed scowl. It fell away without much else.

Asuka stood to inspect a mish-mash of old notes left on the fridge while he fished around his schoolbag under the table. "What kanji are you having trouble recognizing?"

"There's a few hundred I haven't memorized yet. That and knowing when to use the hiragana and katakana right is… well, it's stupid." Utensils and other objects rattled about as she spoke, cupboards opening and smacking closed in rapid succession.

He poked his head above the table, spying Asuka peering into a pantry cabinet. "What are you looking for?"

"Trash bags. Do you even have any?"

"Under the sink, on the left."

Asuka squatted in front of the sink, throwing the cabinets open and rifling through the contents. Setting aside several cleaning products as she went, at last she snatched a roll of white plastic and stood straight.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't answer him, taking a bag from the roll and ballooning it open. Starting on the counter next to the stove, she shoved empty beer cans, old rice cartons, and month-old newspapers within – pausing when she came across a stack of old lotto tickets.

"Keep, or trash?"

"Uh, trash?" They were all duds from the looks of it. Misato achieved little more than breaking even. When Asuka was done with that section, she took another bag and handed it to him so he could start on the table.

They cleared and itemized the kitchen over the next hour. She would hold an object up for his scrutiny, tilting it like the thumb of an emperor about to decide a gladiator's fate. He found several pairs of Misato's aviators as they ventured into the living room, which he put on and stared at Asuka with until she looked up. She tried and failed not to burst into giggles.

"You are so lame, it hurts."

Shinji allowed himself a satisfied smirk.

After complaining that it was too quiet, Asuka searched the coffee table for the remote. That's where he'd last seen it, at least. In Misato's hands it changed locations every night. He heard her make a triumphant sound, slipping it free from a pile of old bill notices. She mashed a series of buttons in the general direction of the TV, twisting it at angles, then twisting herself.

"How do you work this stupid thing?" She growled when all he did was laugh.

"Advanced Japanese technology."

The remote thwacked into his chest. It was far too funny to hurt much. She tossed her bag aside and refused to do any more cleaning until he turned the TV on. Snatching it from his hand, she flipped channels for a few minutes before settling on some movie about the riots way back when. It was loud and easy to tune out, at first. The longer it stayed on, the harder Shinji found it to keep his attention away. Hordes of students with bamboo pikes and white hardhats charged into a wall of shield police. Flags and banners waved amid the mass, fire belching over the shieldmen as rioters hurled molotovs from the roofs of cars. They answered with hoses mounted to water trucks.

He'd heard of something like this happening on the news the other day, somewhere in Tokyo-2. Asuka took notice and changed the station again, and he pretended not to be intensely annoyed. She bypassed several sports channels.

"No football?"

She shrugged. "I only watched it when you did. It's just a bunch of jocks kicking a ball around. How stupid is that?"

"You're just mad because Dortmund keeps losing to Bayern."

Asuka smarted. He still remembered the game in 2011, and completely rubbing the defeat in her face. She'd knocked him in the groin for it and hadn't spoken to him for a week. Such was the price of victory.

She gestured to their horde of trash bags. "If the apartment was this bad, I hate to imagine what your room looks like."

Shinji mustered some indignation at that. "It's actually pretty clean."

"Which room is yours anyway?" She asked, having wandered over to the hallway. She already knew and, he suspected, had just been biding time for the opportunity to invade his personal space. Shinji hovered near and braced himself as she slid the door open and entered his domain.

Beneath the window was an unmade bed, a sliver of fading purple-blue evening slipping in-between a gap in the drapes. Beside that was a nightstand that doubled as a work table, his schoolbag sitting on the floor next to it. Asuka stepped forward as though setting foot in ruins not touched in centuries, absorbing every detail. By the nightstand where his closet stood ajar, revealing a stack of drawers, were a set of yukata Misato had made him wear for festivals past. Along the walls stretched posters, also from Misato, of old American rock bands she had liked when she was his age. Then nearest the door sat a knee-height dresser where an unused TV collected dust along with other odds and ends.

That was where Asuka stopped. "What are these?" she asked, leaning towards a pill bottle from his collection of empties.

"Just some sleeping pills." He moved to stuff them in a drawer before she could get a good look. She snatched his wrist halfway through the action, ripping the bottle from his fingers with the other.

She glared at the label, then at him. "These aren't sleeping pills, stupid."

"I know."

"So don't lie." She tossed them in the drawer, shoving it closed.

"Sorry," he said.

Asuka went to rifling through some of the drawers and he sat on the floor, deciding this was going to take a while.

"What do you need them for?"

"Nightmares."

"Mm. Me too." Whether to the nightmares or to the pills, she didn't elaborate. She seemed to be looking for something, standing straight and setting her hands on her hips. Her head quirked. "You collect mixtapes now?"

At the far end of the table was a small city of cassette tapes. "Sort of. I know a kid from school whose dad owns a record shop. He's got a shopping cart in the back filled with old tapes he finds." The kid was Shoho and Shinji had not been by their shop since they stopped talking. Otherwise the collection might have grown twice the size.

"You're so weird," she said, undoing all of his organization to rifle through the labels. "What's with the American stuff?"

He crawled over and started picking the stacks apart. "I kind of like how it sounds sometimes."

She kneeled next to him. "Yeah, but you never used to listen to anything except for all of that Japanese pop."

"I had a friend in Germany who liked American country. I guess English kind of grew on me."

"Who?"

"You remember Swina?" He asked, and she answered with a blank look. "Scharnhorst?"

"Ooh, yeah! What the hell, you were friends with him? Why?"

"For a little bit, and because we both started hanging out with Erika."

"Oh, _of course_."

Plastic clacked as they went through the pile, until Shinji found what he was looking for. "Here," he said, grabbing his SDAT and switching out the cassette. He popped in one ear bud and gave her the other. Electro dance and screeching guitar wailed in their ears.

"Xmal Deutschland?" Asuka asked, bobbing her head.

"Yeah," he said, reading off the back. "Some Nena and Ton Steine, too."

They must have spent hours listening to tapes, shuffling from one to the next in a more rapid fashion than they deserved. A wellspring to parched thoughts. They voted on their favorites, which devolved into heated bouts of argument that died off as they stumbled upon something else they liked.

"This is your old one, right?" Asuka took the cassette where he'd left it on the dresser.

"Yeah, I listen to it all the time, though."

"Well, _I_ don't. It's the one with Miki, right?"

He nodded and clicked it in place. The SDAT began at the last track, 26. Once Again.

Asuka laughed and started to mime the words, and he was content to watch until her foot nudged his ankle, prompting him to join in. They sang together, but he couldn't keep tone. Asuka didn't care. He could forget a while about the Eva, the Angel from his nightmares, and the war over the mountains. They closed their eyes as their shoulders danced, letting the midnight city disappear.

* * *

A/N: More Rei next chapter. Promise.


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